


Not All Slytherins are Death Eaters

by LilyCarmenBlack



Series: THE SEER SERIES [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Founders Era, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marauders' Era, Pre-Battle of Hogwarts, Pre-Hogwarts, Seer Abilities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyCarmenBlack/pseuds/LilyCarmenBlack
Summary: The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unbeknownst to her family, Bellariese was a Seer; a true, terrifying Augur. Two paths layout before her; starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness, but what lay in between she would never, ever know... That was until it was far too late.





	1. Three Blacks and a Peverell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Patronilla: Pat-tro-nilla**

**Capella: kah-PELL-ah**

**Amalthea: aa-m-aa-l-th-EE-aa**

**Ophelia: owFIY-Liy-aa**

**Vega: VEY-Gaa**

**Polaris: Po-LA-ris**

**Belvina: Bell-Vin-ah**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**Terrin: TEHR-IHN**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Three Blacks and a Peverell**

_**3rd of December 1970** _

_She was born in a cold room with green walls and a house that was laced with black magic. Her mother was a proud woman, who chose have her youngest child at home, in fear people would talk. Her father, a stern but loving man agreed, in order for those who thought ill of his family not to gain the satisfaction of seeing their child. She was never meant to be born, for both her parents were quite old and grumpy. The "Mistake" she was called in wider circles; the "Thing" that never should have been born to family._

_Like many Pureblood women before her, Mrs Black had been blessed with little children and many miscarriages, and yet, as was handed her screaming child, all swaddled up in a thick green blanket, the witch of forty-five couldn't help smile. Mrs Black gently pressed a kiss to the child's head, rocking her babe back and forth as the Healer informed her that it was a girl. The baby's angry screams grew louder when the Naming Seer snatched her out of her mother's arms and placed her on a cold stone slab._

_Mrs Black closed her eyes and tried to shut out her baby's cries as the Seer waved a burning smudge stick that filled the room with lavender and thyme. The Seer's other hand, which was decorated with symbols and strange patterns gently clasped the baby's head, and with a flicker of her eyelids, her eyes shut. The Naming Seer twitched her head, her black hair falling out of its loose bun as she muttered to herself. The Naming Seer—a woman by the name of Patronilla de Pavia—had portkey'ed all the way from Spain, and after almost eleven years of knowing the two Blacks had named each of their children. There was Sirius Orion, the eldest, and his younger brother, Regulus Arcturus._

_She had chosen their names because, at the time, it seemed right—and from what she could tell, Patronilla had decided that one would be more adventurous, more rule-breaking, than the other. She hadn't told Mr and Mrs Black that particular detail but it made her smile when she discovered that Sirius was a rather "difficult" child, for it meant that her predictions were coming true._

_Hungry, the infant tried to suck on the woman's fingers, searching for food. When the girl revived nothing but rough skin, and salty sweat, she roared again, her cheeks turning red as the sticky coating of black hair that sat on her head shot up, her magic crossing through her body. The Seer chuckled, gently tickling her tummy as she pushed past the child's mind and unlocked her future._

_Suddenly the Seer was gasping and groaning, her head spinning as she tried to comprehend what she saw. Flashes too bright to comprehend flooded down her spine as something cold and deadly wormed its way into her throat. Noticing that the Seer was distressed, Mr Black approached Patronilla, asking if she was all the Seer ignored him, her dark eyes widening and closing with each image that was shoved before her._

_The baby cried again, unsure of the pain that also ran through her head. Patronilla licked her lips. This child would have a dark future, one where dreadful things would happen to her and those she loved would die. Suddenly the future slowed, and Patronilla was shown a beautiful young woman, maybe fifteen or sixteen, her body smothered in dark robes. She danced in a boy's arms, his red hair long and loose._

_Breathing heavily, Patronilla grinned as a name fluttered into her mind._

_When she had first started working for the Blacks, she had asked for every name they had ever named their ancestors, for she knew, from being a Pureblood herself, that many liked to name their children after deceased relatives. Although technically, no Pureblood who chose to find out their child's future through a Naming Seer could ever choose their child's name, there was something greatly satisfying to know that the Blacks offspring would share a similar name to their ancestors before them._

_Although Patronilla had in deed been given all the names in the Black family, there were a few she could never find, and after digging through thousands of documents and birth certificates, found out that if the Children of Black were ever disowned then their names would forevermore be never used for a child's name ever again._

_It was rather comical, Patronilla thought, for that was certainly not how her family did things, but still, she could understand why the Blacks' chose that rule._

_They were a family swaddled in history, a family who at one point were royalty, but over time, as revolutions rose and witches and wizards grew tired of an oppressive family, the Blacks had abdicated and stepped down to Earls. Although this leap in status did infuriated the Blacks, they were still technically the "Kings" and "Queens" of the Wizarding World, as they ran almost all the major businesses and had their wands in the government. Purebloods, although few, were certainly still in control of the modern world._

_She never understood the British Pureblood's importance for hating Muggleborns, and yet, as Patronilla skimmed through several named in her mind, she had a feeling that the child who lay before her was going to be, not only an incredibly powerful witch, but also one with kindness._

_Should she name her Capella, after the brightest star in Auriga's constellation? No, that name was not right, for the child did not look anything like a she-goat, as her name implied, nor did she have a grumpy future. She was stubborn thought …_

_Amalthea perhaps? But the child wouldn't grow to be a soothing woman, she was fierce and strong like a blazing flame …_

_Bellatrix? Unfortunately, there was already a child with that name and it wouldn't bode well to be named after her …_

_Patronilla thought harder, grouping names together as she sieved through the mountain-load of names the Blacks had offer._

_Maybe a new name—something different?_

_Patronilla bit her lip. No, this child needed to look up to someone, and what better than to find a dead relative with a smilier nature …_

_As the Naming Seer pondered, Mr Black gently touched her shoulder._

_'Miss,' he said, voice full of worry. 'You ears are bleeding …'_

_But if the Seer heard him, she did not say and she did not flinch when Mr Black gently cleaned her ears._

_Ophelia …_

_Vega …_

_Polaris …_

_Belvina …_

_Cassiopeia …_

_Names spun in her head, as the girl's future worked its way before her. The child had stopped screaming now, quietening to silent whimpers as her father overshadowed the Seer. Mrs Black lay on her back, passed out from exhaustion as the Healer gently cleaned her up, wiping away at the dried blood that lay streamed across her abdomen, and the newly row scar that gleamed in the candle light._

_The door opened with a crack and Mr Black looked up to find his eldest son standing in the doorway. Like Mr Black and his father before him, Sirius had gained his father's stormy grey eyes, while his brother, a little boy of nine, had inherited his mother's cold blue ones. At age eleven, Sirius was the right age for Hogwarts, but because his birthday was in November, he would have to start the year after, in 1971. The child looked up at his father, and then to his newly born sister._

_His eyes widened when they settled on his mother, and Mr Black quickly shielded his son from his wife. Sirius' eyes flitted back to his sister._

_'What's her name?' he asked, curiosity lining his question. 'Are we going to have another Cassie or Cissa?'._

_As Mr Black opened his mouth, Patronilla opened her eyes, her dark pupils misty and gone. The Naming Seer suddenly rose to her feet, holding the child close to her chest. Mr Black quickly shut the door on this eldest child, as the Seer kissed the baby's black hair. She blinked, and her eyes returned to normal._

_'Before I name this child,' she said handing Mr Black his daughter, her words thick with a heavy Spanish accent, 'do you, Mr Black, except that this child is yours?'_

_'Yes,' Mr Black whispered. 'I do,'_

_The Seer smiled sweetly and turning back to the stone slab, extinguished the smoking stub. Carefully she crushed some of the ash into her hand and turned back to the baby. Patronilla placed the cool ash onto the child's head, smearing it into her skin, creating a Triskelion on her head._

_The naming Seer then called out the child's name, explaining the girl's fate and purpose through the three names that she called out. Power and old magic glinted into the room, as the child's true name glinted thinly above her head. The Naming Seer suddenly reached into her bag and pulled out a large, leather bound book, and after flicking through several pages found a quill and a scribbled page with a small layout of the Black family tree. She silently wrote the child's name and after a moment's hesitation, smiled and closed the book._

_'So mote be it,' she whispered, hand hovering over the girl's head._

_Glancing up, the Naming Seer gently kissed Mr Black on the brow, before moving over the Mrs Black and kissing her head too. But as she moved away, Mrs Black's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed Patronilla's hand._

_'Change it,' she begged, opening her eyes. 'Please …'_

_Patronilla shook her head, moving a strand of the woman's blonde hair from her forehead._

_'I'm afraid, Mrs Black, that the naming is done, and there is nothing you can do to change it,' she said. 'The Old Gods have spoken to me, and her future does not bode well — this name, will give her strength.'_

_'No,' Mrs Black gasped. 'You don't understand—that name—it's cursed.'_

_Patronilla sighed, rising from the bed._

_'I am sorry Mrs Black, but what is done is done.'_

_Mr Black didn't say anything, as the Seer past, ignoring her as she packed up her things. Patronilla left soon after that, a hefty sum of gold in her bag as well as her snuff stick, the book and her wand. Sighing the witch looked up at Twelve Grimmauld Place, for the last time._

_'Good luck, child,' she whispered, tucking her robe tightly around her. 'You will need it.'_

_The Witch Disapparated away, shifting a small mountain of snow in her path. In the top most room, a small boy, with a thin face peered down on the street below. Sirius grinned, grateful that the Seer had gone. Quickly he grabbed his nightgown and pulled it on. After his father had shut the door in his face, he had retreated to the safety of his bedroom, determined to move only when the Seer had gone._

_He snuck out of his bedroom, carefully creeping down the staircase as not to wake his brother. As he passed his mother's bedroom he heard his parent's loud argument. He paused curious as to what they were saying, but their voices were muffled, and Sirius couldn't hear anything. Moving on, the Heir of Black, made his way down to the first floor, stopping every so often to hear if Kreacher or his parents were about._

_When it became apparent that nobody was coming, he slipped into the Drawing Room and came face to face with the tapestry. The Black family tree was ancient, stretching back further then Sirius could see until there was nothing but a few faded names and strange little golden lines. Quickly he ran his hand over where his name was and up to his parents were a golden thread connecting him to an 'Orion Alphard Black' and a 'Walburga Violetta Black.'_

_He went down again, and his finger ran along another golden thread. He passed 'Regulus Arcturus Black' before landing on a very long name. Although his sister had only three names, including her surname, it was rather complex. It took Sirius a while to figure out what it said, for the room was dark, but as the moon's cold glow shone on that tapestry, he saw it._

_Her birth date—the third of December, 1970—shone under a small portrait of a red faced baby with grey eyes. A thin smile laced his lips as he touched his sister's name. It was interesting old and something he could definitely shorten:_

_**Bellariese Walburga Black** _

* * *

**31st of October 1994**

'Amoret Black!'

Bellariese Walburga Black although noble in blood and name, considered herself to be an impulsive woman, someone who had slapped Death's pointed jaw one too many times and lived to tell the tale, but as her gaze settled on horrified face of the child who sat beside her, the witch's faith in perseverance and authority dwindled away, turning to mist in the cold autumn air. It had been almost thirteen years since the daughter of Earls had truly been afraid, and although the witch had lived those semi-peaceful years in silent harmony, Bellariese Black was a child of war and like the rest of her generation, she never forgot the monsters who plagued the night. But this was a different type of fear because for once, it wasn't about her.

Students turned to face them, mouths open, aghast as they watched the Black family. The other champions and their headmasters and mistress had moved on, leaving the students of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons to realise the awful truth—that for the first time ever, there was a fourth champion. Truthfully, Bellariese would have felt sorry for Harry Potter, for his luck seemed to be worse than hers, but as Septima Vector turned to face the young Earl, a curl of yellow parchment in her delicate fingers, the witch reached for her niece's hand.

Amoret sat beside her in various states of shock, her eyes staring up at her with uncalculated fear. Bellariese ground her teeth. It was unfair! Amoret didn't even attend Hogwarts! But the die was cast, and as Amoret swallowed harshly, the Goblet of Fire flared again, turning the silent hall to a ghostly blue. Bellariese watched, in stunned silence as the Arithmancy Professor caught the floating parchment that was spat out of the goblet. For a brief second, the witch stared at the name, her jaw tightening as she turned back towards Bellariese.

'Arcturus Black IV,' the Arithmancy Professor whispered.

Bellariese's chair scraped loudly against the teacher's dais, as she rose to her feet. Professor Trelawney, her fellow Seer and one of the strangest Professor's Bellariese had the pleasure of being taught by, tried to grab her arm but she shook her off, anger finally crossing through her veins.

'No!' she cried, leaping over the teacher's table and storming over to the Professor. 'No! No!'

Anger was curling off her like water, and as she approached the goblet, a black hue of magic suddenly radiated off her skin. Student's backed away, sliding further along their benches, trying to get away from her as Bellariese snatched the two scraps of parchment from Professor Vector's hand.

'No,' she snapped again, eyes frantically trying to find a fault in the two names. 'No! No! No! I absolutely forbid it!'

Professor Vector's face softened as Bellariese turned back to face her niece and nephew. Arcturus, although turning fifteen in a few months, looked suddenly far younger than fourteen. His skin, which was normally pale but healthy, was a strange, sickly colour, and his electric blue eyes, eyes he had inherited from his mother, stared at Bellariese, begging her to something. His silvery blond hair fell gently around his shoulders, covering the delicate bone structure and the classic good looks of the Black Family, that unless someone peered under his curled hair, no one would have ever guessed that the teenager was the bastard son of Regulus Black.

Curled up in his arms, sobbing silently, Amoret pressed her head into her cousin's chest and unlike her cousin, Amoret was undoubtedly a Black. With her thick, unruly hair and her light skin, the daughter of Sirius Black, looked remarkably like a younger, carefree, feminine version of Bellariese's eldest brother. Her eyes, however, were her mother's and although Bellariese had never met the deranged cousin of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Amoret clearly had inherited her great-great grandmother's murky green eyes. Bellariese swallowed … Amoret was only thirteen.

Surprisingly, it was Rolanda Hooch, who finally took up the challenge of pulling Bellariese away. The Earl ignored her former Flying Instructor's words as she pulled her towards the high table, her warm hand wrapped securely around Bellariese's shaking arm. Shock had settled into Bellariese's bones, that as Madam Hooch dragged her towards the small door on the right-hand side of the high table, her lips curled in anger. Madam Hooch indicated for Amoret and Arcturus to follow, her long purple cloak swishing in the cold air.

Amoret was the first to reach their aunt, hugging her around the middle as Madam Hooch ordered the small family of three to wait, as she went to find Professor Dumbledore. Tears trickled down Arcturus handsome face, his blue eyes clouded with fear as he approached his aunt. Smiling numbly, Bellariese reached out a hand to him and before Amoret could protest, he had wrapped his long arms around his aunt's muscular, but lithe body and his cousins' shaking shoulders. The two teenagers sobbed silently into their aunt, tears soaking into her pressed black robes, that as Bellariese gently kissed Arcturus hair, and stroked Amoret's head, she began to shake. Why them? Why? It was unfair, unjust and not right! It wasn't proper, and completely strung a cord in every rule Bellariese had learnt about etiquette and family! It wasn't fair!

'Earl Black,' a voice whispered, and Bellariese looked up, to find her former Headmaster standing before her, hand outstretched for her to take. 'If you and Miss and Mr Black would come with me.'

It wasn't a question—it was a command. Bellariese stiffened and after a moment's hesitation wiped away the tears from her niece and nephew's faces, handed them the slips of parchment with their names engrained onto them, and took Albus Dumbledore's arm. His hold on her tightened as he led the small family by the crook of her arm, into a large room filled with grumpy looking portraits and strange nicknacks. The four champions and their Heads stood in front of a roaring fire, their backs turned to them as they as they stared at Harry Potter. The son of James and Lily Potter stood nervously by himself, the parchment with his name clutched tightly in his hand.

Teachers crowded around the students, reminding Bellariese of a framed picture, guarding a priceless painting. Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor and residence Transfiguration Professor, stood closest to Harry, lips pressed into a thin line. She fiddled with her wand, her greying hair limp and deflated, her dark emerald robes and large pointed hat creased and floppy as if the situation of Harry's predicament was far too deadly for her to comprehend.

Next to her, looking unitarily excited, stood Ludo Bagman. Bellariese's nose recoiled when she noticed he was wearing his grubby yellow and black Quidditch uniform, a flashy bee pressed onto the ancient material. Bellariese had never liked Ludo, even as a child, and although, at one point, her cousin Narcissa had the biggest crush on him, that childish fascination had thankfully disappeared the moment she set eyes on her husband-to-be.

Standing in front Bagman, bowler hat in his hands, was the only other Pureblood member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. His unnaturally straight grey hair fell around his pale, skull-like face, and across his lip, looking like a grey caterpillar was a narrow moustache. Bartemius Crouch Sr. neither a man Bellariese admired, nor liked, and yet, due to an Unbreakable Vow nearly twenty-four years ago, the woman of twenty-three had been forced to marry his son. Now that Barty Crouch Jr. was dead, and his mother was long incarcerated in the ground, it was up to Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation to marry the young witch. Being betrothed to a man who was old enough to be her father unnerved the witch, and although her grandfather, Arcturus Black III had tried to stop the engagement, no one could ever break an Unbreakable Vow.

But it was the man in the corner, standing close to Igor Karkaroff, as if waiting for the Headmaster of Durmstrang to run, stood Bellariese's former Head of House. It wasn't a well-kept secret that Severus Snape loathed Bellariese's eldest brother, Sirius, for the Heir of Black, had often scrutinised and bullied him. However, few knew that he was the godfather of Regulus' child, let alone a dear friend to the dead man. Although Regulus was dead, the Potions Master had taken the youngest daughter of Orion Black under his wing, teaching her to be a master potioneer, as if Bellariese's brother would come back from the dead and scream at him if he did not. Their friendship was neither one created out of kindness nor because they liked each other, but rather, that Severus Snape owed a debt to Regulus Black, and protecting his sister and child was the only way to do it.

It was Igor Karkaroff who first noticed Bellariese and his face paled when he spotted her. The ex-Death Eater backed away, his robes catching alight as he stumbled into the fireplace. His student, a broad shouldered boy by the name of Viktor Krum, quickly extinguished the flame, but he could not stop the spell that exploded from his Headmaster's wand.

Before the spell could even hit her, however, Bellariese slashed her wand through the air, throwing up a protective shield around herself and her family. The other witches and wizards trueness to face Bellariese and her family, their mouths open in confusion and awe. Karkaroff was shaking, his wand pointed directly at Bellariese's chest as if he had seen a ghost.

'Igor Karkaroff,' Bellariese hissed lowering her arm as the blue shield faded. 'It has been a very long time since I have set eyes on you. How is Durmstrang treating you? Wonderful I hope. Still afraid Bellatrix Lestrange will come after you?'

Karkaroff licked his lips, fear clouding in his dark eyes.

'I should be flattered that you thought I was her, after all, she is my namesake,' the witch grinned. 'Well, partly at least.'

'Bellariese Black,' drawled Professor Snape, stepping forward to the former Head Girl. 'May I enquire why you're here?'

Out of the corner of her eye, Bellariese's eye, she noticed that Harry Potter was staring at her, confusion and awe drifting across his thin face. Bellariese smiled in his direction, raising her eyebrows at him.

'So you are the boy Sirius bought a Firebolt for,' she said, approaching the young boy, her long nails reaching out towards his face. 'That broom was rather expensive young man, not that it was a problem, but still, Sirius was always rather reckless with money.'

'I—I was never told that Sirius had a wife,' the Boy Who Lived stuttered.

A thin smile reached Bellariese's lips.

'I'm not his wife, Mr Potter, although I might be the only woman he truly loves.' Bellariese extended her hand. 'My name is Bellariese Black, I am Sirius' youngest and only sister. You, young man, look an awful lot like your father.'

'You knew my, Dad?' Potter whispered. 'How?'

'Well, considering that Remus Lupin, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew—' Bellariese winced at the name, and Potter frowned, '—were best friends with my eldest brother, I did see them quite often when my father picked Sirius and Regulus up from the train.'

Her smile transformed into a grin.

'My earliest memory of him, was when he plucked me out of my brother's arms, aged three and a half and called me a "little puppy". It was rather annoying considering that Sirius is the dog star and I'm one of the few members of my family who is not named after stars.'

'My love,' Crouch suddenly said and Bellariese blanched. 'If you will, could you please answer Professor Snape's question.'

Sighing deeply, Bellariese pressed her hand to her forehead, fixed her "mask" back onto her face and turned to face her niece and nephew.

'Arcturus. Amoret.' she replied stiffly. 'Please hand the slips of parchment to Professor Snape.'

Nodding, Amoret took her cousin's parchment and after glancing wearily at the Potion Master handed them to him. Severus Snape read the names on the parchment, black eyes reading them carefully. He looked up at Amoret after a moment's hesitation, lips curled.

'You are Black's child, are you not?'

'Yes, sir,' Amoret whispered, staring at his shoes. 'Only child of Sirius Black,'

Severus Snape's eyes narrowed again and before anyone could stop him, he had snatched the teenage girl's chin and forced him to look up into his eyes. No one moved and Bellariese watched with faint amusement as her old Head of House's eyes widened. He looked at Bellariese, mouth open slightly, before turning back to Amoret. He looked at her again, staring into her green eyes. Recognition flashed in his eyes when he realised who her mother was. He dropped her chin.

'You are a Peverell, are you not?'

Amoret shifted.

'On my mother's side,' she replied. 'My grandparents were Terrin and Amoret Peverell.'

Snape handed her the parchment.

'Go back to your aunt,' he said.

Amoret nodded and quickly approached Bellariese, tucking her head into her robes. Arcturus fiddled with his robes, watching his godfather with curious eyes. It had been a while since the two had seen each other.

'What the devil is going on, Albus?' Professor McGonagall asked, lips tight.

Professor Dumbledore sighed heavily.

'It would seem,' he said. 'That the Tournament has gained two extra participants. May I present the two final members of the Triwizard Tournament, Amoret Black and Arcturus Black VI.'

An explosion of anger suddenly erupted from the other Heads, and Amoret quickly covered her ears as Arcturus approached, shaking.

'I do not want to compete,' he whispered to Bellariese, as the cries of anger grew. 'I never wanted this.'

'I know,' Bellariese whispered, pulling him close. 'None of us did. And yet, I fear you two will have no choice.'

A ragged gasp lip Amoret's lips.

'No …' she whispered. 'No …'

Bellariese kissed her niece's forehead as someone pressed a hand on her shoulder. Bellariese winced when she realised it was Crouch.

'You should be grateful,' he hissed in her ear and Bellariese bit her tongue as his nails suddenly bit into her shoulder. 'They will compete in the Tournament—that is an honour.'

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and Bellariese's anger rose. Quickly she detached herself from her niece and nephew and spun to face Bartemius Crouch. She growled at him, as her anger rose, spitting a mouthful of spittle in his direction.

Amoret screamed, silencing the arguing witches and wizards as Crouch struck her aunt, his jewelled rings catching her delicate face. Blood smeared across her face, and her black hair had unseen from the bun it had been hastily shoved into. Now, with her hair loose, those how remembered Bellatrix Lestrange could understand why Karkaroff had thought Bellariese to be her. Black hair fell down her back thick, shining strands, the ends curling as they reached her fingertips. Her eyes were hidden behind heavily lidded eyes and her high cheekbones and long none were enough to entice any man, married or otherwise to reach for her aristocratic face. The only difference between the two was that Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, was never as tall as Bellariese, nor were her eyes grey. A tattoo did curve down her left forearm arm, but instead of a Dark Mark, there lay a small snake, it's pointed teeth bared and hungry.

Arcturus lunged toward the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, anger burning in his gut. But before he could press a hand Bartemius Crouch, Bellariese had grabbed his waist, scooping both arms around his middle and pulling him away. Amoret unsheathed her wand, a long dark thing, and pointed at Crouch. Mr Crouch snarled, staring down at the two wards who guarded their aunt, his lips curling.

'I do not know why you stay with them,' he hissed. 'They are nothing by your brother's mistakes—bastards the both of them! Not even worthy to carry the Black.'

'My father and grandfather thought otherwise,' Bellariese muttered, lowering Amoret's wand with her hand. 'And Amoret and Arcturus were entrusted into my care when they died.'

Crouch leant close, grabbing Bellariese roughly by her chin.

'From what I can remember your mother hated them. It has almost been nine years since Walburga died, are you really going to shame her memory by keeping a Parseltongue and a Squib?'

Several people gasped when Crouch pointed first to Amoret and then to Arcturus. Bellariese ripped her chin out of Crouch's grip and lifted her head, staring into his eyes.

'If I can remember correctly, Mr Crouch, a person who speaks Parseltongue is a Parselmouth, and since when has it become shameful to have a Squib in the family. If I remember correctly, my cousin Marius is a Squib.'

'He was cast out when he was fifteen,' Crouch said, staring at Arcturus with angry eyes. 'He's far too old to stay.'

'Arcturus isn't fifteen until November,' Bellariese hissed. 'So he is not disowned just yet.'

Bellariese suddenly turned to Dumbledore.

'What is your decision, Headmaster? Are my wards to enter this Tournament? Would you really make a thirteen-year-old girl and a Squib fight?'

Dumbledore suddenly approached the two teenagers, looking down his nose, with mild concern. Bellariese rolled his eyes. Like he actually cared.

'Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?' he asked, looking at Amoret.

The teenager shook her head, tears trickling down her face. Dumbledore turned to Arcturus.

'Did you, Mr Black?'

'No,' Arcturus said, straightening his robes. 'As Mr Crouch and my aunt said. I am a Squib and my sister is barely a teenager. No, we would not enter the Tournament.'

Dumbledore nodded, turning away from the two. Karkaroff nervously looked at Crouch, lips quivering.

'Mr Crouch, Mr Bagman, Earl Black,' said Karkaroff, voice deep and gruff, 'you are our—er—objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?'

Bagman wiped his round face with a spotted handkerchief and looked at Crouch who had moved to the fireplace and was staring into the gloom, all trace of the angry man gone from his grasp. Bellariese frowned. It was almost like he was another person.

'We must follow the rules,' he said curtly, 'and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.'

Bellariese's jaw tightened. Amoret let loose a small scream.

'Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,' said Bagman, beaming at Karkaroff and Madame Maxime.

'I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students,' said Karkaroff, sharply, and ugly look crossing his face. 'You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has four champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore.'

'But Karkaroff, it doesn't work like that,' Bagman said, all trace of happiness leaving his voice. 'The Goblet of Fire's just gone out—it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—'

'—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!' exploded Karkaroff. 'After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!'

'Empty threat, Karkaroff,' growled a voice from near the door, and Bellariese turned to find Alastor Moody clunking into the room. 'You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore, said. Convenient, eh?'

Moody limped toward the fireplace, his eye whizzing around at everyone as his human, darker one stared at Karkaroff.

'Convenient?' Karkaroff asked, wetting his lips. 'I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody.'

Bellariese noticed that the Headmaster of Durmstrang's hands were curled into fists.

'Don't you?' asked Moody quietly. 'It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's and the Black's names in that goblet knowing they'd have to compete if it came out.'

'Evidently, someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts four bites at ze apple!' said Madame Maxime.

'My wards do not even study at Hogwarts,' Bellariese hissed. 'They are taught by my Uncle Ignatius!'

'Ignatius Prewett,' Moody hissed. 'Bloody bastard—he'd got half of the Ministry in his pocket!'

Bellariese growled.

'I quite agree, Madame Maxime,' said Karkaroff, bowing to her, ignoring Bellariese and Moody. 'I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards—'

'If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter and the Blacks,' growled Moody, 'but … funny thing… other than Miss Black's snivelling … I don't hear the three saying a word …'

'Why should 'ey complain?' Fleur Delacour suddenly cried, stamping her foot. 'Ey 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'ey? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money—zis is a chance many would die for!'

'Oh please be quiet,' Bellariese hissed. 'Of course, they do not want to complete! They are children for Merlin's sake!'

'Maybe someone's hoping Potter or the Blacks' are going to die for it,' growled Moody.

Bellariese wrapped her arms tighter around her niece and nephew as a fence silence drifted into the room. Bagman, bounded up and down on his feet, his smiling face gone and replaced with an anxious smile.

'Moody, old man …' he said, 'what a thing to say!'

'We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime,' said Karkaroff loudly. 'Apparently, he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.'

'Imagining things, am I?' growled Moody. 'Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boys' and girl's name in that goblet …'

'Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?' asked Madame Maxime, throwing her hands into the air.

'Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!' Moody cried. 'It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament … I'm guessing they submitted Potter's and the Blacks' names under a fourth school, to make sure they were the only one in their category …'

'You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody,' Karkaroff said coldly, 'and a very ingenious theory it is—though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realising it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously …'

Bellariese sighed deeply. This was not going to end well.

'There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage,' Moody retorted in a menacing voice. 'It's my job to think the way Dark Wizards do, Karkaroff — as you ought to remember …'

'Alastor!' Dumbledore said warningly and Moody fell silent.

Karkaroff's face was a bright red, anger coursing through him.

'How this situation arose, we do not know,' Dumbledore said. 'It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Cedric, Harry, Amoret and Arcturus have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do …'

Bellariese's eyes widened.

'Sir,' she muttered, but her voice fell, shock running through her.

'Ah, but Dumbly-dorr—' Madam Maxime put it.

'My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it. And Earl Black, you know the consequences of creating a magical contract—do you not?'

Bellariese closed her eyes, as her hand trailed to her right wrist, to where a silver bracelet lay.

Madame Maxime glared at Dumbledore, but she wasn't the only one who was angry at the Hogwarts Headmaster. Snape was furious; Karkaroff looked livid; Bellariese ground her teeth; Bagman, however, looked rather excited. Bellariese frowned. Of course, he would, he thought everything was a game.

'Well, shall we crack on, then?' Bagman said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. 'Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?'

Crouch looked up startled.

'Yes,' he said, startled, 'instructions. Yes … the first task …'

He moved forward into the firelight and Bellariese realised he looked ill. She hadn't seen it before because her anger was blinding everything she saw, but up close, she saw the black bags that lined his eyes and suddenly realised how thin and waxy his skin looked. He didn't look healthy.

'The first task is designed to test your daring,' he told Harry, Cedric, Fleur, Viktor, Amoret and Arcturus, 'so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard … very important. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.'

Bellariese closed her eyes. The rules were stuck and she couldn't help her wards. Amoret hugged her tighter as Crouch turned to Dumbledore.

'I think that's all, is it, Albus?'

'I think so,' said Dumbledore, who was looking at Crouch with mild concern. 'Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?'

'No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry,' said Crouch, sounding flustered. 'It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment … I've left young Weatherby in charge … Very enthusiastic … a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told …'

'You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?' said Dumbledore.

'Come on, Barry, I'm staying!' said Bagman brightly. 'It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!/

'I think not, Ludo,' said Crouch, gruffly.

'Professor Karkaroff—Madame Maxime—Earl Black—a nightcap?' said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had strung her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her away. As they past Belfries she noticed that they were talking in French. She only caught a few whips of their conversation, before Karkaroff and Krum hurried out of the room. Bellariese, her wards, Harry and Cedric Diggory were the only ones who stayed.

'Harry, I suggest you go up to bed,' Dumbledore said, smiling. 'I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.'

Harry glanced at Cedric, who nodded, and they left together. But as they approached the exit, Madam Hooch suddenly ran into the room, waving another piece of parchment above her head.

'Professor!' she cried, zooming around Harry and Cedric like an out of control broom. 'Albus!'

'What is it Rolanda?' Dumbledore asked as the Hufflepuff and the Gryffindor left, the remaining teachers following in pursuit.

Madam Hooch slowed to a stop.

'It just came alive again!' she cried flustered, handing him the parchment. 'As we were packing it up—it just—the Goblet—'

But Dumbledore ignored her as his eyes settled on the parchment before him. Something dimmed in his eyes, and his gaze hardened as he looked up at Bellariese. Quickly, the witch sent her wards away, informing them that she would find them later. As Arcturus and Amoret left, curiosity lining their eyes, Dumbledore indicated for Bellariese to approach him. The witch quickly obliged. She stared at Dumbledore curious as to why he was so frightened and after a moment's hesitation, he handed her the parchment. Part of Bellariese breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered it was not her name on the parchment, while the other half of her began to shake in her boots.

Professor Dumbledore said nothing as he pressed his hand to Bellariese's shoulder as heart-wrenching gasps escaped her lips and the mask that she had worn nearly all her life slipped off. Written in a clean, neat handwriting sat a name she hoped she would never see or hear again, and yet, Bellariese knew she had seen it before.

'It's starting,' she whispered to Dumbledore who stared at her. 'My visions—they're beginning to come true ... again.'

'What do you mean?' Dumbledore asked, frowning.

Bellariese licked her lips.

'I mean sir, that the final battle has just begun,'

Bellariese closed the parchment, her body shaking—it seemed that Amoret would finally meet her mother after all, for the name written on the parchment was the woman's true name, the name that people did not know:

**Amaranth Peverell**


	2. A Birthday and a Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Patronilla: Pat-tro-nilla**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Havisham: HA-vishh-Ham**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

**Fenrir:** **f-eh-n-r-ee-r**

**Celesta:** **Seh-LEHST-aa**

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**A Birthday and a Prisoner**

**_24th of April, 1971_ **

_Birthdays were a rather rare event in the Black family; celebrating them was even worse. Every year, Sirius and Regulus begged their parents for a cake or something, but like every year before them, they pointy refused. Birthdays were precious for the Black family, a reminder that you were still alive, which was why, Walburga and Orion Black refused to celebrate them. To them, handing over gifts and lavish things was pointless, especially if their children were going to die the following year. Which was why, Regulus was very surprised when his mother handed him a cream card with a tiny snitch floating in its corner, and said, in a rather grim voice,_

_'_ _Happy Birthday,'_

_For a brief second, the middle child of Orion and Walburga Black had stared up at his mother, his large blue eyes watching her own as if testing that it was indeed his mother, and not some random witch or wizard who had stolen a few of her hairs for a Polyjuice Potion. But then his mother's mouth had curled, the thin smile wiping off her lips as Sirius stepped into the dining room, a sleepy expression on his face._

_If there was anyone Regulus would have loved to be, it was his older brother, for although mischievous and extremely patronising, Sirius Black was the Heir, and had their father's undecided attention, something which Regulus craved. It didn't matter if he was in trouble for running away from his tutor because he didn't want to learn Mermish or French. It didn't matter that Sirius was sending letters to their disowned cousin, Andromeda Tonks. It didn't matter that he and their mother argued with each other about every little thing. Sirius was under his father's control, and it was up to him, no matter what his wife said, what to do with their eldest son. With his black hair, dark grey eyes and pale skin, he was the definition of a 'Black'._

_Their sister, Bellariese, had also inherited their father's haunted eyes, and was praised by both their parents for it, and yet, Regulus couldn't help think that there was another reason for his baby sister to look so fearful. She, in turn, was also important, for she could continue to produce Pureblood children for generations to come. She was stubborn, angry and quite loud, but then again so were every baby of four months. Regulus hoped that by the time she turned twenty-one, his sister would at least hold some sort of mannerism to marry his friend Bartemius Crouch Junior. Truthfully, if Regulus was asked what he thought of the arrangement, he found it very wrong. Barty was a year younger than he and would be nearing twenty-nine when he married Bellariese._

_The baby in question sat beside him, a goofy expression on her tiny face. Kreacher sat beside her, coaxing a silver spoon with a strange gloopy substance on it, into her mouth, but every time his sister tried to eat her food, it just creamed out of her mouth. Regulus rolled his eyes and quickly put the letter down as Sirius shooed Kreacher away._

_'_ _Let me do it,' he said, batting the house-elf's head away and snatching the spoon from his grip. 'You are getting food all over her.'_

_As soon as Bellariese realised that Sirius had picked up her spoon the four-month-old girl closed her mouth, a thin scowl dancing across her lips as if she was pondering something. Sirius, oblivious to his sister's closed mouth, scooped up a lump of food and tried to push it towards his sister. A thin smile drew across Regulus' lips as Bellariese snatched the spoon out of her brother's hands and tipped the bowl of gloop on top of his head._

_A shriek of laughter erupted from their sister's lips and she rocked her head back as if seeing her brother covered in her food was the most exciting thing she had ever seen. Regulus laughed along with her as Sirius removed the bowl, a scowl scratched onto his boyish face._

_'_ _Thanks,' he muttered moving away from the laughing baby._

_Sirius' eyes widened suddenly when he saw the card._

_'_ _Hey,' he said. 'Who gave you that?'_

_Regulus fiddled with the paper and his sister's laughter suddenly fell silent. She was looking at him, her big grey eyes peering at his sullen face with a mixture of distress and confusion._

_'_ _Mummy,' Regulus said. 'She gave it to me,'_

_'_ _Well, have you opened it?' Sirius asked, scooting forward to grab a slice of toast._

_Regulus moved away from his brother's head, not wanting his trousers to be smeared in his sister's food._

_'_ _Not yet,' he said, handing his brother a napkin, 'I am still trying to figure out why she gave it to me,'_

_'_ _Probably because it is Bella's engagement party.' Sirius said, dryly. 'She will make us talk to people. Mother probably wanted you to have something to talk about considering you are rather shy.'_

_It was true, for the youngest heir was the quietest out of the lot, and often hated crowds. It seemed that his sister did not like people either, for she would cuddle up to her older brother, clinging to him like a vulture when people tried to remove her from his collar. Once, at her betrothal party last month, she had screamed so loudly when Barty had tried to hold her, that she had only stopped when she was back in Regulus' arms. Their mother, a rather difficult woman, had apologised to the Crouch Heir, explaining that Bellariese was a rather good child, and for the life of Merlin could not figure out why she had caused such a fuss!_

_Bellariese was looking at him again, her eyes narrowed and sly. Truth be told, Regulus had never seen a baby with so many expressions — it was if she was trying to talk, but just couldn't figure out how, and so facial expressions and screaming had become her only form of communication._

_'_ _Do you think Bella really wants to marry Rodulphus?' Regulus asked, taking a mouthful of porridge as his sister expected the crusts of bread from Sirius' hand._

_'_ _Merlin no,' Sirius said. 'He is nine years her senior, but I think Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus are trying to hush up the fact that Cousin Andy left him to marry Ted.'_

_'_ _Mummy will go mental when she finds out that you are still talking to her,' Regulus said. 'You know that.'_

_A large grin rose on Sirius' face, and the eldest son of Orion and Walburga cocked his head, looking an awful lot like his name sake — the dog star._

_'_ _What is life, without a little risk?' he asked, buttering his toast. 'Besides, no one is going to know. Tonight it is all about Cousin Bella and Lestrange. It may be your birthday but they will be the centre of attention. Oh, that reminds me, Happy Tenth Birthday!'_

_His grin widened as he reached into his dressing gown pocket and handed over a long, thin package to his younger brother. It was carefully wrapped in a silver paper, a thin card reflecting Regulus' name in Sirius' messy handwriting tied with a black bow._

_'_ _Thanks,' Regulus said._

_He placed the gift on the table._

_'_ _Are you not going to open it?' Sirius asked, suddenly looking disappointed. 'It took a long time for Ree and me to find it.'_

_Regulus looked at his sister who had fallen asleep in her highchair, her small mouth opening and closing as she slept. He had never understood why Sirius refused to call Bellariese anything other than "Ree." At the time, Sirius told him that it was to shorten her name, for Bellariese Walburga Black was far too ridiculous a name for a baby as small as their sister. Although Regulus had been dubbed, "Reg" by his elder brother since day-one, he had a funny feeling that Sirius "Siri" Orion Black only carried on the tradition because it was Andromeda who had started it all. She was "Andy" or "Dromeda"; Narcissa was "Cissa"; Bellatrix was "Bella". It infuriated their mother, and yet, the names stuck, and by the time Andromeda was disowned, her nicknaming ways had been carried on by Sirius._

_'_ _I'll open it later,' Regulus said. 'Mummy will question me where I got it otherwise.'_

_Sirius grunted._

_'_ _Good thinking,'_

_Regulus sighed._

_It wasn't just that he wanted to be Sirius, but rather, it was because he had managed to make friends with a half-blood and two blood-traitors and their parents didn't even bat an eyelid. If he talks to anyone outside the Sacred Twenty-Eight he would get a beating, but Sirius was well, Sirius, and nothing could ever change that._

_Bellariese grunted, turning over in her seat as if her unconscious body wanted to get out of her highchair. She was dressed in a small black dress, her shoes on the floor as she struggled to move. Carefully, as not to wake the sleeping infant, Regulus removed his sister from her chair and held her in his arms. Although born three months early, she was a strong little thing and had suppressed almost everyone when she had started to eat solids and babble to herself, for most assumed that it would take longer for her to do anything. Bellariese's black hair tickled his neck as is little sister buried herself in his arms as if trying to make herself small and tiny. Regulus smiled. She really was adorable._

_'_ _We have to keep her safe,' Regulus said._

_'_ _What?' asked Sirius, 'Who?'_

_'_ _Reece,' Regulus said, clutching his sister tighter, lest she falls. 'There is something going on at the Ministry — and with all the deaths that are happening… I think there might be something bad coming.'_

_'_ _Like what?' Sirius asked._

_'_ _I do not know,' Regulus admitted, 'but there is something.'_

_The long beat of the Blacks' large grandfather clock caused the two brothers to jump, their sister squeezing her eyes tighter, stirring for a brief second before sinking deeper into her dream. Their father's feet thumped against the floor above, and the doorbell suddenly rang, indicating that the Sirius' tutor had arrived._

_Sirius sighed._

_'_ _Well,' he said. 'Looks like Mr Juno is here,'_

_Regulus granted._

_'_ _Hey,' Sirius said, smiling. 'We will think of something. Besides, although Bella and Lestrange will be the talk of this evening, the day is free for you to do as you please.'_

_Regulus frowned. That was never going to happen._

_The middle child of Black rose, holding his sister tightly against him and settled his "mask" back onto his face._

_'_ _You might want to wash your hair,' he said, stiffly. 'Professor Juno will not like it if you turn up like that.'_

_Sirius laughed dryly, ignoring his younger brother's stern expression as Regulus left the kitchen, carrying his sister to her room. He ignored the paintings as he walked up the stairs, choosing to keep his path close to the bannister in order not to hear their gossip. He passed his father's study, which like always, was locked shut, before twisting towards the second landing. By the time he reached the top floor, silence crept across the ancient floor boards._

_Sirius' bedroom stood opposite to his own, the long door open to reveal a messy bedroom and a strewn of books on the floor. Compared to his brother, his room was clean and tidy, the cheats crisp and fresh—but he wasn't heading to his bedroom. In-between the brother's rooms, guarding a door like two knights, stood their sister's chambers. Her bedroom was smaller than both Regulus' and Sirius' combined, a small, thin suite with had been hastily created by their father four months before. Her door was long and thin and did not creak when Regulus gently pushed inside._

_Dark walls climbed up around him and his sister, a small silver chandelier hanging high in her tiny room. A tiny crib sat beside the window, waiting to be replaced by a bed as his sister grew and the curtains that rested next to it were the colour of emeralds; the silver curtain pole twisting like a snake. To the right of the cot sat a small wardrobe, the black-stained oak jutting out in a sharp triangle, reminding Regulus of a Vanishing Cabinet. Tucked under the wardrobe's shadow sat a desk and rising up out of the ground like a mighty tree sat the largest bookshelf Regulus had ever seen. Admittedly the shelves contained very few books and instead was the holding place for his sister's things: dog-eared toys with large glass eyes, a strange snow glob that rattled whenever his sister cried, and possibly the strangest gift of all, a crystal ball._

_Madam Patronilla had given it to his father the night she named Bellariese, telling him that his daughter would need it for the coming years. Regulus never really understood why the mad Spanish Seer had handed her father such a gift — he himself had got a strange locket, while Sirius had gained a toy dog. But for what ever reason, according to their father, Madam Patronilla had looked sadly as the children of Black as she left their Naming Ceremonies as if she were afraid for the future to come. Maybe that was why their parents never celebrated their birthdays, in fear that Patronilla's prophecies would come true._

_Regulus shuddered. No, it was best he did not dwell on such things._

_Bellariese was wriggling in her sleep now as if waiting for something bad to happen. Quickly Regulus approached the cot and set his sister down and gently kissed her forehead. In the end, Bellariese was safe, with a future that would be comfortable. Although he was unnerved that his friend would one day marry his sister, he knew that no matter how strange it was, Barty Crouch Junior would take care of her._

_As the youngest son of Orion Black left his sister's room, he had no idea how wrong he was._

* * *

**12th of November, 1994**

The first thing that hit Bellariese when she arrived at the prison was how cold it was. Icy's winds and the smell of the sea stung the witch as she teetered on the stone dock, her robes spinning as she tried to hold her balance. Below her feet the rocks were slippery, the rain that fell in thick turrets making it difficult to stand. Finally, after what seemed a decade, Bellariese managed to stay upright, and with a tug on her purple robes, stepped off the dock and headed towards the tiny outhouse that housed the only human guards of Azkaban.

The outhouse wasn't really an outhouse, and instead was a large tower built on top of an underground bunker. The lighthouse rose out of the gloom, casting a lonely shadow across the water and the craggy outline of Shetland's coat. There was a reason why the Muggles drank so much up here in the winter months, for the Dementors' power extended in the dark, and thrived when people were at their most lonely. Something tugged at Bellariese's mind, drawing her memories to darker, unhelpful thoughts. Biting her lip, the young Earl approached the house and the large wall that surrounded the bunker.

As the witch approached the entrance, alarms blared and wizards in orange robes exploded from the bunker, their wands extended in protective positions. Bellariese was surprised to see that a few of the guards even had Muggle weapons with them. The lighthouse suddenly swung towards her, pointing it's threatening gaze in her direction.

'PUT YOUR WAND ON THE GROUND AND RAISE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!' a voice bellowed.

Bellariese rolled her eyes, and after a moment's hesitation placed her wand before her and put her hands on her head. The Hit Wizards swarmed towards her, their eyes distrustful and full of malice. But there was something off about this guard, for behind their confused and angry expressions, there was a sense of dread and pain. It was as the witch expected, the Dementor's power was reaching towards them, tugging at the Hit Wizards memories and making them see their worst memories, and the witch did not feel a sense of pity for them. They were here for their own reasons; Bellariese was for a Prisoner.

The Hit Wizards parted as the sound of thumping feet approached and a second later, a large, broad shouldered man with greying hair and orange eyes stepped into the gloom. He was wearing a black cape, and at first, Bellariese thought he was a Dementor, but as he leered forward, taking in her face, hair and her bored expression, his face darkened and he suddenly became human.

'Identification?' he snapped.

'Left pocket,' Bellariese said.

The Leader looked towards one of his men and a young wizard with red hair stepped forward and quickly sourced through Bellariese's pocket. The witch grinned darkly when she realised how uncomfortable he was — obviously he wasn't used to touching a woman.

Eventually, the guard, who's cheeks were now a faint red, handed his Leader an identification card, which was folded up in the finest dragon skin money could by. The Leader unfurled the card, reading the name inscribed on the letter. For a brief second his eyes narrowed at her surname before he looked back at Bellariese.

'Earl Black,' he said, 'what are you doing here?'

'I have a letter from Albus Dumbledore and Barteimus Crouch,' the witch said, smiling sweetly. 'It is in my right pocket if you wish to see it,'

The boy once again was instructed to search Bellariese's pockets, and by the time he pulled out the letter, his blush had travelled all the way to his Adam's apple.

'Pull yourself together, Havisham!' the Leader snarled, grabbing the letter from the boy. 'She's just a woman!'

Havisham, looked down, still red.

'Sorry sir,'

Bellariese chuckled lightly. The Leader glared at her and ripped open the letter. Although it was raining, and the paper was obviously becoming quite wet, the Leader was still able to make out the writing, and as he read, his face paled.

'Are you insane?' he asked, glancing back up at Bellariese. 'They want her to compete?'

'Well, no one really wants her to compete,' Bellariese said. 'But they have no choice. If she doesn't turn up then the children's magic will disappear and they will all become Squibs — not really something anyone really wants to happen. And yet, I am insane — inbreeding will do that.'

'But why her?' the Leader demanded, shaking. 'She's our most dangerous prisoner.'

Bellariese shrugged.

'I do not know,' she said. 'All I know is that I am to collect the prisoner and take her back to Hogwarts. She will be handed back her wand and be kept under content supervision.'

'She'll kill people,' the Leader said.

'She will not, especially when she uncovers that her daughter is going to be in the Tournament too.'

The Leader froze and Bellariese grinned. She'd struck a nerve.

There weren't many children born in Azkaban Prison, and the ones who were often died, the dark magic surrounding the prison often killing them before they could even breathe. However, there were a few who survived, and those who lived were separated from their parents' cell and placed with either a magical orphanage or left in the care of a remaining relative.

Suddenly Bellariese straightened, her eyes dark and daunting.

'Look, I do not have much time. Either lead me to Gaunt or I will storm that prison and get her out myself.'

Havisham suddenly gasped, understanding who they were talking about. Some of the Hit Wizards started mumbling to themselves.

'Who's Gaunt?' one man asked.

'The mad witch on Level Twelve,' another answered. 'Black's Wench,'

Bellariese's brother's name danced around the small army like wildfire, and as the whisperings grew, everyone suddenly understood why it had been Bellariese who had been chosen to get Gaunt — she was the only person who Gaunt would trust.

The Leader sighed deeply.

'Fine,' he said, waving his hand and the men slowly backed away from Bellariese. 'I will take you to her. But if I discover any funny business, you'll end up in a cell with her,'

Bellariese nodded lightly.

'Of course, sir,' she said.

'You may collect your wand after you've returned from the island,' the Leader continued snatching up Bellariese's wand from the floor and handing to Havisham.

Bellariese bristled. If there was one thing she had learnt, that was excepted among all classes, poor and rich, was that no one, other than the wand's owner, was to take another person's wand. It was taboo, and Bellariese suddenly felt naked without it, as if the guards had taken a part of her soul.

'I'm sorry,' the Leader said, placing his hand on Bellariese's shoulder. 'But it's protocol. The last time someone brought a wand into Azkaban … well … let's just say there were a lot of dead bodies that day.'

The Leader looked at her as if expecting the witch to shudder. Instead, Bellariese stared at him blankly, a vacant expression on her face.

'Shall we go then?' she asked, 'I have not got much time.'

'Of course,' the Leader said, and he held out his arm.

But Bellariese ignored the Leader and with a purposeful stride, lowered her arms and headed towards the bunker. Inside the Hit Wizards watchtower, the witch felt slightly better, but she suspected it was due to the faint magical wards she could feel as she stepped through the door. Immediately, she was led to a small room were a couple of female guards stood. She was ordered to strip and removed everything that was on her. That order had met the male guard with a few fierce glared and a "fuck off" before he understood that the witch would not remove her clothes with him standing in the room. Finally, after she was deemed "clean" and her clothes were safely back onto her, the witch was led out of the bunker by the Leader and towards the small boat where she would be brought across the Azkaban.

The boat rocked back and forth, the powerful North Sea striking the boat with deadly force as the Leader and Bellariese approached the prison. The witch in question and only ever been to Azkaban once, and that was when she was a little girl. Amoret had been placed in her arms that day, the screaming, bloody creature resembling a Goblin more than a human baby. That was also the first time she had seen her brother after nearly six years of abandonment.

Sirius had sat against the wall, child clutched tightly in his arms as Gaunt stared at the wall, eyes blank and miserable. She didn't even look at Amoret as Sirius handed her to his mother, who in turn, dumped the child into her daughter's arms. From what Bellariese could remember, Sirius hadn't even realised that she was there, but for the girl of ten, almost eleven, she defiantly did. His hair had been long and scraggly, the faint husk of a beard trailing his chin as he stared up into the gloom, eyes broken and dead. But still, there was a spark of the old Sirius behind his eyes, as if the months encased in Azkaban hadn't affected him yet.

Bellariese shuddered.

Thirteen years was a long time to be shut up in Azkaban — how sane would Gaunt be?

Finally, the boat reached the dock and Bellariese were guided out of the boat by the Leader. She did not except his arm and instead waited for him to lead her towards the prison. Eighty, maybe even a hundred Dementors warmed the entrance, and with a Protons charm, they scattered like flies. The Leader unlocked the mutable locks, before tucking his wand tightly in his robes.

'From now on,' he said, turning to face Bellariese. 'What you see, and hear will not be helped with a patronus. I cannot use my wand from here on. Do you understand?'

Bellariese nodded.

'I've been here before, sir,' she said. 'I know what to do,'

Nodding, the Leader opened the door wide and allowed Bellariese into the prison. At first glance, nothing had really changed in the thirteen years since Amoret's birth, but as Bellariese's eyes adjusted to the darkness, she suddenly felt that the wards were stronger and that there were various traps and curses to stop prisoners escaping. The smell was also a lot worse, for the stench rose and fell like the crashing storm outside, making Bellariese's stomach lurch. But it was the screams that made her insides cream — the sounds of torture ripping through the thin building as people scratched at their bodies and cried out for help.

'I had almost forgotten how cruel his place is,' Bellariese said, touching the wall. 'You have upgraded everything,'

'You're a Curse-Breaker …' The Leader said, stunned.

Bellariese shook her head.

'No,' she whispered. 'But I once had a boyfriend who taught me how to look for magical wards and barriers. I can sense every trap in this building. I guess you upgraded everything because of my brother?'

'Yes,' the Leader said glumly. 'We had too.'

Bellariese nodded.

'Well,' she hissed, pointing up the stairs with hand, 'are you going to take me to Level Twelve?'

The Leader did not ask how she knew where Gaunt was and quickly led her up the stairs to the first floor. As the two defended, Bellariese noticed, that every so often the metal coating would change to thick bars. The cells were mostly over crowded, men and woman both sprawled over each other as they whimpered in the dark. From what Bellariese could tell the lower levels from one to three, were for the lesser prisoners, once who broke petty laws such as thievery, or fraud. Levels four to ten were for worse crimes such as arson, identity theft and occasionally, manslaughter. But it was the last two levels which held the most dangerous people. Most people in those cells were Death Eaters, followers of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were imprisoned for murder, rape, torture and many other vile crimes. And all the while, as Bellariese climbed the stairs with the Leader, the haunting image of Celesta Black's body drifted in and out of her head.

As the two reached the top two levels, Bellariese suddenly realised how eerily quiet the cells were, now the prisoners watched her with hungry eyes. She heard the faint growl of a prisoner, and Bellariese turned to see the yellow talons and greying hair of Greyback. He snarled, spittle dripping from his lips. The Leader unsheathed a large club and smacked the werewolf back, barking at him to sit. The werewolf looked up at the Leader and after a moment's hesitation backed away. Bellariese licked her lips. If Greenback ever got out, then the Leader would probably be the first person he'd hunt down.

Out of the corner of Bellariese's eye, she saw the long, once beautiful hands of a familiar figure gently drawing symbols into the bars that kept her there. A part of the witch froze as the once beautiful face of her cousin met her gaze. For a split second, Bellatrix Lestrange cocked her head, watching the woman with wide eyes.

'Reecy … ' She whispered, mouth agape. 'Has my little Reecy come to see her Mummy?'

That's when the other part of Bellariese kicked in and she suddenly drew away from the woman who had cared for her, pain etched on her face.

'Shut up you hag!' the Leader cried.

Bellatrix pulled away as the Leader hit her with her club. Bellariese flinched.

'Sir,' she said, 'I have to see Gaunt,'

The Leader froze as if suddenly remembering that Bellariese was there.

'Come with me,' he replied gruffly, pulling away from Bellatrix.

As Bellariese left her deranged cousin, she heard Bellatrix screaming her name, her hands scratching against the bars as she desperately tried to grab her. Silent tears trickled down Bellariese's face as she left Bellatrix and climbed the final steps to the last level. Quickly, she wiped them away.

The last level was dark and gloomy, the corridor eliminated by a thin window that looked out over the sea. There was a small corridor, the triangular point making the cell seem smaller than it was. As the light from the moon fell across the window, Bellariese suddenly caught a glimpse of the woman she was supposed to find.

Th woman's nails were long and unkempt, the nailed-bed cracked and ugly. Grime clung to the witch's once beautiful skin, covering her arms, legs and face in a thick stench of something disgusting. Her hair, which was already long when she came to Azkaban, lay wrapped around her torso, three thick lengths of brown hair tied securely around her waist. Her prison dress was ripped and smeared with ancient blood and her feet were bare and bloody. But it was her eyes, bright and as green as grass, that unnerved Bellariese, for it was the same eyes that looked up at her nearly every day.

'Gaunt,' the Leader hissed, approaching the woman, 'this woman would like to speak to you. She is—'

'I know who she is!' Gaunt replied, her eyes flickering to the Leader, anger dancing deep in her eyes. 'You do not think I would not recognise my own sister-in-law.'

'Leave us,' Bellariese suddenly said. 'Wait outside the door.'

The Leader paused.

'I have been instructed too—'

'I do not give a flying fuck whether or not you need to stay or not! I have had strict instructions to talk to Miss Gaunt alone,'

The Leader paused.

'If you let her loose,' he said, hand raised. 'I will beat you black and blue,'

Gaunt snarled, flashing her teeth, and Bellariese nodded.

'Understood, sir,' she grunted angrily.

The Leader's face narrowed, and after a moment's hesitation turned and walked back down the stairs. He shut the door, and Bellariese could hear the sound of locks clicking. They were alone.

'You can come closer,' Gaunt replied, beckoning Bellariese closer. 'I do not bite,'

'Well,' Bellariese said, 'according to the Ministry official you attacked, you do?'

Gaunt shrugged.

'They imprisoned me here without a trial,' she scoffed. 'All because I am Lord Voldemort's cousin … pathetic.'

Bellariese was now in front of the bars, her nose almost touching Gaunt's own.

'How is my baby?' Gaunt asked.

'She is fine,' Bellariese replied stiffly.

'Good,' Gaunt replied. 'I am glad she has managed to have a better childhood than I ever did.'

'Why did you not escape with Sirius?' Bellariese suddenly asked.

Gaunt blinked, eyes rolling as she tried to remember.

'I am not an Animagus,' she finally said. 'Sirius could slip through the bars unseen. But of course, my dear, you knew that.'

One of Gaunt's long nail's touched her cheek.

'You know, Sirius told me about you,' she continued. 'Long before here of course, but he told me things.'

'Did he now,' Bellariese replied stiffly.

'Yes,' Gaunt said. 'About how you screamed as he left, how you called out his name as he rode away.'

The memory suddenly flashed across Bellariese's mind, the Dementor's power reaching deeper into her memories, rifling through her thoughts like jelly.

'Yes,' Bellariese muttered. 'I did. I was a foolish young girl who thought keeping her brother safe would be the best option — turns out I was right,'

Gaunt grunted and pulled away.

'So, why are you here?' she asked.

Bellariese cleared her throat.

'You, — you were chosen to represent in the Triwizard Tournament, and I am afraid, under the rules, you have to come,'

Gaunt looked up.

'Excuse me?' she asked. 'What did you say?'

Bellariese sighed.

'Your name,' she said, handing the witch the slip of paper with her true name across it. 'You are the seventh champion.'

'Seventh?' Gaunt asked, reading the name. 'There are only supposed to be three champions.'

Bellariese looked up at the prisoner, eyes dark.

'Excluding you, three others have been forced to join. Someone put they're named in the goblet.'

For a long, while Gaunt stared at Bellariese and then, quite suddenly, the prisoner threw her head back and laughed, a deep crazy laugh. But the laughter was not happy, and instead seemed to be a husk of what she used to be — Gaunt found the situation funny, but at the same time she was not happy.

Suddenly she tensed, the feel of the Dementor looming towards her and she pressed her hands to her head, whimpering. Bellariese felt it too, and suddenly she was engulfed in several memories she tried to forget.

Her father's pale face as he was lowered into the earth, his casket still open for all to see…

Regulus's body sinking beneath a forgotten sea as hands pulled him down to his doom…

Celesta's suicide and the way her body swayed as she hung from the bannister…

Her mother, bloody and disoriented as she was mugged in the street…

The Potters…

Closing her eyes, Bellariese concentrated as the things she should have never seen drifted in and out of her mind, the things her other part of her had willed to uncover. And then the Dementor was moving away, and the feeling to jump off a roof past. Bellariese opened her eyes and stared into the terrified face of Gaunt.

Gaunt suddenly looked broken, as if she was unsure where she was. She was desperately digging around in her mouth, her long nails scratching at her tongue as if she was trying to glue it together. Everyone knew the tale, for that was one thing Clare Gaunt was famous for. Her tongue had been severed, the long pinky flash reminding Bellariese of a snake's tongue more then human's. According to her, she had inflicted it upon herself in order to speak Parseltongue better, but from the way the prisoner was acting, Bellariese was unsure.

'Are you all right?' she suddenly asked.

Gaunt paused.

'Yes,' she breathed, removing her hands from her mouth. 'Just a memory.'

She looked at the floor as if seeing the blood and grime for the first time.

'Who are the other three participants?' she asked.

Bellariese swallowed.

Although Gaunt was partially sane, there was a part of her which Bellariese wasn't so sure about. Would she freak out when she discovered that the Boy Who Lived was her competitor? Would she scream with rage when she uncovered her nephew and daughter would be fighting beside her? Or would she simply take everything in her stride, and then turn on Bellariese when she least expect it?

Gaunt was staring at her now, waiting for the names.

'I cannot tell you,' Bellariese breathed finally, 'but I will say this … If you do not compete, then you and the rest of the competitors will lose everything — your magic — your status — this prison … You will die by an execution rope or a sharp blade by tomorrow morning, and nobody will know your name. You will just be, the Dark Lords cousin, a woman who gave birth to an Azkaban bastard, a witch who's story will never be known. You will never be Amaranth Peverell, the child who was stolen from an Orphanage, and instead, you will be Clare Gaunt, the woman who murdered hundreds, who tortured even more, who loved fire and who decapitated Marlene McKinnon.'

Gaunt's face paled. Bellariese stepped forward, grabbing her arm which had the black stain of the Dark Mark etched on her skin.

'If you ever loved my brother or your daughter … Please, will you compete?'

Gaunt looked around her prison, and then back as Bellariese as if contemplating her deception.

'Well, considering I do not have a choice, I think I will come with you, Bellariese Walburga,'

Bellariese removed her hand.

'Good,'

For a brief second, the two witches stared at each other, before Bellariese turned and knocked on the door. The Leader opened it, peering at her nervously.

'What is it?' he asked.

Bellariese reset her "mask".

'Unshackle and unlock her,' she demanded. 'Madam Peverell is coming with me,'

Bellariese turned to face her sister-in-law, and for the first time in a long while, the witch was grinning, her sliced tongue twinkling in the moonlight.

It was time for Amaranth Peverell stop take a step into the light.


	3. The Acceptance Letter and Six Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Celesta: Seh-LEHST-aa**

**Helewis: Hell-eeh-WIZZ**

**Salazar: sae-luh-zahr**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Clare: kl-ai-r**

**Patronilla: Pat-tro-nilla**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth  
Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**Terrin: TEHR-IHN**

**Dorcas: Door-Cass**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**The Acceptance** **Letter and Six Wands**

**_14th of August, 1971_ **

_It was just over two months before Sirius' twelfth birthday when he met Clare Gaunt. At the time, he didn't really understand who she was, for she never said a word to him, but it would be an impression that would last for years to come. It also happened to be the day, a letter from a certain school and it arrived directly on his head. The young boy in question had been waiting for his letter for months, and could barely contain his joy when the envelope arrived at his least favourite cousin's wedding. Although Sirius wasn't fond of Bellatrix, he couldn't deny she looked beautiful. With her dark hair twisted out of her face in a low bun and her grey dress sweeping the floor like glass, the eldest child of Cygnus and Druella Black reminded Sirius of a doll. But, there was something strange about the young witch, a look of fear in her dark eyes, as if, deep down, all the smiles and brash kisses had been all carefully planned for one large show._

_He, along with nine other Pureblood children had been shoved into a small room right after the ceremony, their bored faces darkening when his Aunt Druella explained that they wouldn't be receiving any wedding cake. Truthfully, Sirius wasn't all the fond of cake, and would have preferred to have a large bowl of ice cream or Fizzing Whizzbees, but still, that didn't mean he was a little bit disappointing that instead of the seven course French-made meal he had been promised earlier that day, he and his siblings had to eat a less than fancy meal on a tiny table several rooms away from the Great Hall in the Lestrange Manor. True, there had been "Chicken Glazed with Ginger, served on a bed of rice, with mushrooms and potatoes" but that still didn't mean he wanted the "Lobster and Crab Mousselin en Croute" that his parents were eating in the other room._

_He sat beside his brother and a girl he had never spoken to before, carefully eating his chicken as his sister, who had chosen to sit beside Regulus, was reluctantly eating a strange mushy thing that made his insides turn out. Apparently the baby of eight months had acquired a fine pallet over the few months she had actually been alive, and was desperately trying to dump the weird goop on top of her fiancee's head. Sirius smiled as Regulus tried to make a deal with the fussy child, begging her not to throw her food around the place, and especially not on Barteimus Crouch Junior's head._

_Across from Sirius sat the Rosier siblings, their pale hair pulled tightly out of their faces making them look like beetles. Celesta, the younger of the two, and unfortunately for her, Regulus' betrothed, carefully ate her tart, which from what the waiter had shouted at her in French, was the only vegetarian option on the menu. She didn't look happy about it and was gently peeling away the pastry and choosing to eat the goat's cheese instead. Like Sirius, her brother, Evans, was eating his chicken, however, the boy of sixteen was completely ignoring his sister and was flirting with Helewis Nott, a dark haired girl with an upturned nose, who was desperately trying to ignore him._

_To the right of Helewis, sat the Carrow Twins, who were eagerly throwing the decapitated head of their house-elf around the room, their gleeful eyes wide with delight. Sirius' stomach rolled and he turned away, choosing to look at the girl beside him. Unlike the Carrows, or Nott, he had never seen her before, but from what he had learnt in the past five minutes, was that she didn't like to talk. Her long brown hair had been pulled out of her face, carefully tightened into a high ponytail, and she wore a knee-length dress, the light green chiffon reminding everyone who stared, that she came from the Upper Class. Rings decorated her fingers and a thick bandage was wrapped tightly around her left forearm. But it was her eyes, all green and wild, that caused the young Heir of Black to think, that maybe, just maybe, this unknown girl had secrets well beyond her years._

_She had come with a tall stranger, her lips trembling when the dark haired man had congratulated Bellatrix, muttering something about Blood-purity and some other tosh that Sirius had chosen to ignore. Her name had never been introduced, and instead, the mysterious stranger had whispered into her ear, his hand tightening on her bandage as he pushed her in the direction of the children. They hadn't arrived for the ceremony but had turned up for the meal, something which had confused Sirius to no end._

_Like Sirius she too ate he chicken, however, although her bites and chews were delicate and graceful, there was something odd about her as she ate quickly, as if she had not had anything in weeks. True, she was a bit thin and now that he was sitting next to her, Sirius could see the collection of scars that ran up her arms and neck, but that didn't mean she was dangerous._

_So far, she hadn't said a word and had chosen to stare at the faded portrait of Salazar Slytherin. The wizard stared out at the small room, his face stoic and still as his eyes moved over the place watching the small huddle of children as they ate their food. Occasionally, he would rise from his chair, to summon a book from an unknown library, but most of the time, the portrait would just sit there, watching the world behind a layer of oils and canvas. The girl didn't even move when the portrait stared at her, fixing his green eyes on her own, as if he was studying her, judging her for himself — and then, quite suddenly, Salazar smiled. Sirius' eyes widened and he quickly turned away, fixing his gaze on his food. Perhaps it was best not to ask the girl her name._

_As Sirius was trying to persuade his sister to eat her food, a loud shriek rippled across the small room, and the children froze as if they had been struck by a freezing charm, as a black owl, with silvery-blue eyes swooped into the room. A letter was clamped tightly in its claws, and as it flew over Sirius' head, the letter suddenly dropped from its grip. Quickly, Sirius rose to his feet, catching the letter as it landed on his head, and pressing his hands tightly around the folds of the envelope in case it fell onto his half-eaten plate. The Pureblood children stared at him, their faces taut as he stared down at the letter, a thin smile on his face._

**_Mr S Black_ **

**_The Lestrange's Smallest Drawing Room_ **

**_Lestrange Manor_ **

**_Oxfordshire_ **

_'Hey,' Regulus whispered, nudging his brother as he sat down. 'You got it — you got your letter,'_

_Sirius smiled thinly, and with shaking hands he turned over the envelope to reveal a purple seal with a lion, eagle, badger and a snake carved into the wax. The words "Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus", were inscribed underneath the crest, and Sirius could help but smile when he realised that the words translated to "Never tickle a sleeping dragon" in English._

_With shaking fingers, he carefully ripped open the letter, revealing two rolls of parchment and the familiar green ink he had seen from his parent's letters years before._

**_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_ **

**_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_ **

**_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_ **

**_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_ **

**_Dear Mr Black,_ **

**_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._ **

**_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._ **

**_Yours sincerely,_ **

**_Minerva McGonagall_ **

**_Deputy Headmistress_ **

_The letter was snatched out of his hands by his brother, who read the letter with gleaming eyes._

_'You got in!' he cried, shaking his brother's arm, 'You got in!'_

_'Of course, I got in, Reg,' Sirius smirked, picking up his fork and taking a bite of chicken as his brother began to jump up and down, his "mask" slipping off to reveal an excitable child._

_Bellariese looked a little annoyed, and she stared up at her brother accusingly as if demanding through her withering glare that it was his fault their brother was so energetic. Sirius smiled, and ruffled his sister's hair, carefully avoiding her grubby hands which were covered in her horrid food._

_'Congratulations,' Helewis said, reaching over and gently squeezing Sirius' arm. 'We'll see you there,'_

_She indicated to Evan and herself, and the blond haired boy scowled deeply, as if annoyed that he would have to share a school with Sirius._

_'So, what house do you want to get into?' Celesta suddenly asked and Sirius turned away from Helewis and to look at the young girl._

_Although only nine years old, Celesta was wise beyond her years and was what Muggles would have called, "an old soul" for she preferred to stick in the past and handed out advice by the bucket load._

_'I don't know, hopefully—'_

_Before Sirius could finish, however, his sister let loose a torments roar. The table's occupancy froze, turning to face the little girl as she roared again, and pointed directly at her brother. She laughed, clapping her hands and roared some more. Nobody said anything, and as Bellariese stopped laughing, Sirius suddenly noticed that his robes, which had been a deep black colour, were slowly changing to a deep scarlet red._

_'That is some pretty powerful magic your sister has got there,' Barty suddenly said, his voice hardening at the thought of having to marry a powerful witch._

_'Yes,' Sirius muttered, smiling at his sister as the bright colours faded from his robes. 'She is,'_

_The door suddenly opened and the unknown man poked his head through the door. He was handsome, with a mane of short black hair and skin so pale he looked almost sickly. His robes were black and were embroidered with a thin grey stitch, but it was his eyes, as dark and deadly as Death's that caused Sirius to shudder. He did not like this man._

_'Clare,' the man whispered, his voice almost like silk. 'It is time to leave.'_

_Nodding, the girl beside Sirius rose to her feet, and carefully made her way over to the man. The mysterious man suddenly grabbed her arm as she passed, and he leaned down so that his dark eyes were watching the girl's own. Clare stiffened as the man's long fingers forced her to look up at him. He spoke quietly, his voice masked in an odd language Sirius had never heard of before. For a few seconds, Clare nodded, and with a strange look in Sirius' direction, Clare was led away._

_Sirius bit his lip and turned to face his sister who was staring at the place where the man had been. He expected her to be fearful, to have tears rolling down her face, but instead, Bellariese looked upset, as if she had seen something she didn't like. The Black Heir looked up as the chattering voices rose and the final course was brought out for the nine children. Plates filled with raspberry sorbet and dark brownies filled the room, and while they did manage to improve his mood, Sirius couldn't help but smile._

_He was going to Hogwarts, and no matter which house he ended up in, everything would turn out all right in the end._

_If only Sirius could have known the hellish war that was about to come, and the crucial part he and Clare were about to play._

* * *

**13th of November, 1994**

When Bellariese awoke, she found the green eyes of Amoret staring down at her. Her nice had managed to crawl on top her bed, her dark hair falling around her as she peered down at her sleeping aunt with a look of absolute betrayal in her dark eyes.

'What is she doing here?' Amoret snapped her arm pointing to her left.

Bellariese looked up and noticed that the young witch was pointing towards her Birth Mother. Although she had been away for six hours from Azkaban Prison, Amaranth Peverell suddenly looked peaceful, as if she had never murdered Marlene McKinnon — then again, that might have only happened due to the haircut and wash Bellariese had demanded she take. Now clean and in a set of Bellariese's silk pyjamas, the woman of thirty-three slept on, undisturbed by her child's outrageous cry. Since there were only three beds, two singles and one double, in the tiny apartment that had somehow materialised in the Hogwarts' foundations the night before, Amaranth was forced to sleep in the same bed as Bellariese. For a long while, the two had glowered at each other, which only ended when Bellariese threatened to blow her head off if the prisoner so much as stepped on the floor. Thankfully, the alarm system hadn't been set off in the middle of the night, and the two had slept on, that was until Bellariese was awoken by her niece.

'She is a Champion,' Bellariese muttered, putting her head back on her pillow and pulling the thick blankets up around her head.

The witch winced as Amoret pulled the blanket away, revealing her aunt's tired face.

'She is a what!' she hissed, eyes wide. 'Does she know about — well, you know!'

'That you, Arc and Harry are also in the tournament?' Bellariese shook her head. 'No, she does not. I kept that piece of information away from her. It is better to think you three are just regular students.'

'And how is that going to work when Arc looks like his mother, I look like Dad, and Harry looks like James Potter!' Amoret hissed, eyes wide. 'She is going to kill you when she finds out!'

'Well,' Bellariese hissed, pushing her nice off her. 'I will deal with it when I get there. Now leave me alone, I went to Azkaban last night so piss off!'

'Why did you go to Azkaban?' a voice asked and Bellariese raised her head to find the curious face of her nephew.

The witch sighed, pressing her hand to forehead.

'Arc,' she whispered pointing at her nephew, 'meet your Aunt Amaranth, who is more company known as Clare Gaunt.'

Arcturus' eyes widened as his aunt pointed toward the second figure.

'She the Dark Lord's cousin! How are you able to sleep with her there!' he asked, wide eyed. 'Also, she is Uncle Sirius' wife!'

'Kind of,' Amoret muttered. 'Mum and Dad never married.'

'And to answer your previous questions,' Bellariese uttered. 'She won't kill me. Her life is dependent on this Tournament. I also would appreciate it that you two leave this room right now.'

'Why?' Arcturus asked.

'I'll explain it to you later,' Amoret snapped, pulling her cousin away from the door. 'Oh and Aunt Reece?'

Bellariese looked up.

'They want all of us in the Arithmancy Classroom in five minutes, so you two better move it.'

'Why do they want us there?' Bellariese asked.

'McGonagall said something about photographs.'

Bellariese sighed, running a hand down her face as she sat up, pulling at her plaited hair.

'So, that was my baby,' Amaranth whispered.

Bellariese turned and looked at the prisoner, who starred up at Bellariese' eyes wide.

'Yes,' Bellariese stated. 'I would refrain from talking to her though — she is not a forgiving person. How much did you hear?'

'Enough,' Amaranth whispered, turning her back on Bellariese.

With a heavy sigh, the witch rose to her feet, and headed towards the bathroom, picking her dirty clothes off the floor and summoning her clean ones as she went. Quickly she put the dirty clothes into a laundry shoot that disappeared down the Hogwarts laundry and washed her face. Once she admitted that the bags under eyes went going to simply disappear, she dressed, pulling on a pair of Muggle jeans and an old Beatles top she had stolen from her brother's wardrobe years before. After applying her makeup, the witch pulled on her shoes and hurried out the bathroom, throwing Amaranth a set of clothes she had managed to retrieve from the mountain-load of boxes she had received when Sirius was put in Azkaban.

The green dress, which Amaranth had supposedly worn on her first date with Sirius, landed at her feet, and after a moment of staring at the fabric with a sad expression on her face, the prisoner moved into the bathroom to get ready. While waiting for the cousin of Voldemort to reappear, Bellariese quickly pulled on one of her father's old Selkie-skin coats, and after a moment hesitating snatched up a pair of Regulus' dragon hide boots and tied them to her feet. Smiling, Bellariese grabbed the only thing she had left of her mother, a beautiful hair clip, curved into the shape of a silver snake, and gathered half of her hair into a loose ponytail before clipping it into place with the clip. She shivered, feeling the old stories of the people who had once inhabited the clothes, and while the things she saw sometimes scared her, like the time her father had murdered a wizard for no reason, the witch felt some strange comfort from wearing the clothes of the dead and the people she had lost.

'You look comfortable,' Amaranth said, and the Earl turned to face her sister-in-law.

A thin smile graced Amaranth's lips as she leaned against the bathroom door, her long dark hair wrapped once again firmly around her waist in a tight plait. She had nicked some of Bellariese's makeup, for she had managed to make her gaunt face look less like she hadn't eaten properly in thirteen years, and more like she had amazing cheekbones. Bellariese had a strange feeling it wasn't just to stop the children from being terrified of her, as that no amount of makeup would ever be able to hide the tattoos and the name that graced Amaranth's head.

'You look nice,' she said reaching into her truck and pulling out a long purple robe and a pair of purple shoes. 'You might want to wear these, though. Do you remember how cold this place can get.'

'I do not think any place will be colder than Azkaban,' Amaranth whispered, pulling the robe over her scarecrow like shoulders and slipping the pumps onto her feet.

She smiled faintly.

'So, where's the camera's?' Amaranth whispered, sarcastically.

Bellariese smiled softly.

'Do you remember where the Arithmancy classroom was?'

Amaranth's face fell.

'Right now,'

'I'm afraid so,' Bellariese said.

The cousin of the Dark Lord sighed.

'Well, then,' she muttered. 'We best not keep anybody important weighting,'

To say people were stunned, was another matter entirely. Students stared at Amaranth as she passed, their mouths open as they watched the Azkaban prisoner and the Earl of Black walk down corridors towards the Arithmancy Classroom. By the time the two managed to enter the classroom, word had for around Hogwarts faster than a snitch: that a woman with Azkaban tattoos was in Hogwarts. Surprisingly, only the elder students could put Amaranth's face to her alias, and many turned the other way when the two witches approached, fearful that the rumours of Clare Gaunt were true.

When Bellariese pushed open the door to the Arithmancy Class room she was met with a small classroom and curious eyes. The desks, which she had once studied at, were pushed up at the back of the classroom, leaving the blackboard and a long blanket of velvet to veil them from prying eyes. However, as Amaranth was pushed into the room, wand pointed directly at her throat, Bellariese noticed that eight chairs sat in front of the blackboard.

Viktor Krum sat in the corner, his dark eyes staring at the floor as Arcturus sat beside him, face peering into a book as his blond hair fell across his handsome face. Fleur Delacore looked surprisingly happy, a warm smile coating her lips as she tossed her silvery hair in the light, hoping to catch the attention of Cedric, who was talking adamantly with her about some unknown topic. Amoret sat by herself, her eyes previously watching the crowd around her, as her Great Uncle, Ignatius Prewett sat beside her, his long arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Bellariese smiled when she saw her uncle, and the red-haired man waved back as Bellariese pushed Amaranth in his direction.

'Hello, niece,' Ignatius said, rising to his feet and hugging Bellariese tightly.

The Earl of Black wrapped her long arms around the old man's shoulder's, squeezing him tightly as if afraid he would wander off.

'It is good to see you, uncle,' Bellariese whispered.

'My dear,' Ignatius said, pulling away and looking the witch firmly in the eye. 'While I love seeing you, I must ask, who is the woman behind you and why is Amoret looking at her like she is the worst thing on earth.'

'She is my mother,' Amoret spat, lips curling as she stared at the woman who stood before her. 'Amaranth Peverell.'

Ignatius studied Amaranth, his blue eyes hardening as the prisoner wriggled under his gaze.

'You are the woman who was taken by the Dark Lord, are you not?'

'Yes,' Amaranth said. 'My parent's were—'

'Terrin Peverell and Amoret Gaunt, yes, yes I knew them very well,' Ignatius interrupted. 'Be lucky child that my great-niece decided to tell me your real name, and not the alias you go under. I do not think Karkaroff will be pleased when he discovered that you are here, Miss Peverell,'

'Yes, sir,' Amaranth muttered.

'Now,' Ignatius said, straightening and grasping Amaranth's arm. 'Before I hand over your wand there is something we must do. Bellariese, you know what to do.'

Nodding, the witch, ignoring the champions odd looks, pulled out her wand and with a quick breath began and allowed a thin tongue of fire to trickle from her wand. She heard Arcturus gasp, his eyes widening when he realised what his aunt intended to do.

'Will you, Amaranth, promise not to attack any student, champion, guardian or teacher, present or not, while you stay here at your time during the Triwizard Tournament?'

'I do,' Amaranth whispered, her voice deep and hollow.

'And will you promise not to use Dark Magic on the school grounds, and keep in the sight of Earl Black at all times?'

'I do,'

'And should your fellow competitors die… you will not hurt or hunt anyone down for revengeful purposes… even if you think it is reasonable. Do you promise to the terms of our agreement?' Ignatius asked.

'I do,'

'Then let it be known that our agreement has been sealed accordingly and that you are bound under an Unbreakable Vow that you are fit to wield your wand.' Ignatius said, and he lowered his arm, cutting through the flame and watched Amaranth with dark eyes.

'Thank you, uncle,' Bellariese said, lowering her wand and stepping away from Amaranth.

Ignatius grunted and reached deep into his pocket, but before he could hand over his wand, Albus Dumbledore entered the room, his long robes trailing on the floor behind him. With him came Karkaroff, Madame Maxime and Crouch. For a brief second, Crouch's eyes landed on his betrothed, and just as he was about to approach her, he noticed Ignatius. For a long while, the two stared at each other, their eyes dancing angrily at each other as each ward tried to out smart the other. It was only when Bellariese put her hand on her uncle's shoulder, did Ignatius turn away.

It was then Crouch saw Amaranth.

His wand was out from its sheath in an instant, and he was throwing hexes and spells across the room faster than Bellariese could even blink. An explosion of blue light suddenly rippled between Crouch and the Blacks and it took Bellariese a little longer than she would have liked to admit that Amoret had risen to her feet and was slicing her wand through the air in quick even strokes, battling a wizard over half her age. Students and Headmasters and one Headmistress, stared open mouthed as Amoret backed Crouch into a corner, lips snarling, as she raised her wand, and with one tremendous shove, pushed Crouch to his feet.

'STAY AWAY FROM HER YOU FUCKING NUTJOB!' Amoret screamed, face red and magic boiling. 'SHE WILL NOT HARM YOU WHILE SHE'S HERE! SHE HAD JUST UNDERGONE A BLOODY UNBREAKABLE VOW! SO SHE'S PRACTICALLY HARMLESS! AND ALSO, STOP EXPECTING MY AUNT TO JUST DROP ARC AND I WITHOUT A THOUGH IN THE WORLD, BECAUSE I CAN TELL YOU NOW YOU OLD CREEP, THAT IT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!'

Stepping forward, Ignatius pressed a hand on Amoret's shoulder.

'Amoret,' the old man whispered, guiding his pupil away from Crouch. 'Why do you not come with me and you can calm down. Eh?'

Amoret, who was still seething, nodded, but before she could be led away by her great-uncle, a voice screamed,

'I have NOT got tears in my eyes!'

Looking toward Dumbledore, Bellariese frowned, and with a quick nod in her direction, the Earl of Black lunged towards the corridor and one of the many broom cupboard that sat in the Hogwarts corridors and pulled open the door. Compared to the things she had seen inside broom cupboards before when she was a Prefect and later Head Girl at Hogwarts, seeing a reporter annoy the Boy Who Lived didn't even come close.

Rita Skeeter, possibly one of the most odious women alive, sat in the cupboard, a Quick-Quotes Quill fluttering above her head as it scribbled absolute nonsense down on the page. Harry sat trapped in between the blonde haired woman, his eyes wide with anger, that as Bellariese stuck her head inside and pulled the reporter out by her robes, she couldn't help but smile at the boy's surprised expression.

'Get off me!' Rita shrieked, her long, deadly red painted nails scraping against Bellariese's hard skin. 'Let me go this instant! Do you know who I am?'

'Of course, I do, Rita,' Bellariese whispered, turned the woman around to face her as Harry climbed out of the cupboard. 'I loved your little article about me, several months back… What was it called? Oh yes, I remember now: _Earl Black, Mad or Sane? Take your pick?_ '

The reporter suddenly looked flustered, as if surprised a noble would be reading the Daily Prophet. Suddenly aware of her Headmaster's presence, Bellariese turned to face him, dragging the reporter with her.

'Dumbledore,' Bellariese said, looking up at her old headmaster, 'she's all yours,'

With that, Bellariese shoved the flustered reporter in Dumbledore's direction, and before Harry could protest, had led Mr Potter back into the classroom and over to her little group. Amaranth's mouth dropped open when Harry approached and she suddenly rushed up to him and pressed her hands on his face. For a few seconds, the witch uncomfortable studied Harry, and as the young boy stood awkwardly still, silent tears began to trickle down Amaranth's face.

'You look like Lily,' she suddenly whispered, and Harry looked confused.

'Everyone says I look like my father,' he muttered.

Amaranth shook her head.

'I lived with her for a few months, and trust me, you have defiantly got Lily Evans face. Yes, it might be masked behind James' good looks and annoying hair, but you have got her eyes, her mouth, nose…. even her bloody walk… Oh Merlin, look at you…'

'Eh, Clare,' Ignatius whispered, putting his hand on the witch's arm and pulling her away from Harry. 'I think that is enough. You can talk to your godson later.'

'But I want—'

But Amaranth's voice was silenced by Ignatius' harsh glare as he led her away. Karkaroff pretended not to notice Amaranth, but his dark eyes kept looking over at her, his face sweaty as if expecting her to lash out and attack. But the witch did no such thing and instead started to annoy Arcturus by asking him what book he was reading.

'Leave me alone, Clare,' he snapped, scooting away. 'Let me read in peace!'

'Honestly,' Amaranth snapped, poking the boy's head. 'You are seriously too much like your parents. That bookishness comes from Reg, while your incapability to engage in conversation comes from Cele.'

'Just leave me alone, you crazy snake-speaking lady!'

Amaranth laughed and waved her hand.

'Not a chance, Squirt!'

Arcturus groaned and slunk down his chair, the book resting on his forehead as Rita returned with Dumbledore. The reporter sat in a corner and slipped out a piece of parchment from her bag as her Quick-Quotes Quill began to write.

'May I introduce Mr Ollivander?' said Dumbledore, indicating to the old man who had once given Bellariese her wand. 'He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.'

Apparently, Garrick Ollivander didn't understand the meaning of ageing, for he still mangled to look as ancient, yet young, when Bellariese had first met him years ago. With his pale silvery eyes and white skin, he looked a mixture between a fae and a sprite, that when Bellariese was a child, she often wondered if he was.

'Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?' asked Ollivander, stepping forward, arms open.

Fleur fixed her air, and after a seething glance in Amoret's direction swept over to Ollivander and handed him her wand.

'What was that about?' Bellariese asked her niece.

Amoret smiled.

'She does not like that fact, that I managed to talk to Cedric when all her attempts failed. It was rather funny.'

As Ollivander inspected Fleur's wand, Arcturus suddenly appeared by his aunt's side, face pale.

'Um, Reece,' he muttered tugging her arm. 'I don't have a wand.'

'Its fine,' Bellariese whispered, gently hugging him and kissing his forehead. 'I know what to do,'

'Are you sure?' Arcturus asked his aunt.

Bellariese winked.

'Don't worry, I have a plan.'

Arcturus frowned.

'Now that makes me worried.'

As Bellariese chuckled as a bunch of flowers burst from the tip of Fleur's wand, ending the inspection.

'Very well, very well, it's in fine working order,' said Ollivander, handing the flowers and the wand back to Fleur. 'Mr Diggory, you next.'

Fleur returned to her seat, smiling at Cedric as she passed.

'Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?' said Ollivander, sounding far more enthusiasm, as Cedric gave the wandmaker his wand. 'Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn…must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches…ash…pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition...You treat it regularly?'

'Polished it last night,' said Cedric, grinning and Bellariese heard Amoret scoff.

'Suck up,' she muttered, twirling her own wand in her hands.

A cloud of grey smoke rings rose from Cedric's wand, not only ending the Hufflepuff's inspection but allowing Ollivander to be satisfied with the results. Next, he called for Krum, who rose and headed towards the wandmaker, looking glum.

'It looks like he is never happy,' Amoret whispered as the Quidditch Star handed over his wand. 'Maybe he is lonely,'

'You looking for a grouchy boyfriend, then Retty?' Arcturus asked, grinning, and nudging his cousin.

'Piss off, Arc,' the witch hissed as a few birds suddenly fluttered out of Krum's wand.

Arcturus rolled his eyes, as Harry was called forward.

'Aaaah, yes,' said Ollivander, face gleaming. 'Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.'

It seemed to take an age for Ollivander to inspect Harry's wand, and it only ended when a fountain of wine shot out of the boy's wand.

'Excellent!' Ollivander cried, smiling. 'Now, Miss Black, I understand you are next.'

Nodding Amoret walked towards Ollivander and handed over her wand. The wandmaker's face narrowed as he inspected it, mouth pressed into a thin line.

'This wand belonged to Terrin Peverell… It was made by my father… How on earth did you manage to obtain this wand?'

Amoret shrugged.

'It was in the Family Vaults. I picked it up when I was nine and I suppose it liked me well enough for it sparked, and I've had it since.'

Ollivander hummed, his fingers running up and down the ancient wood.

'Elder….Dragon-heartstring…sixteen-inches…yielding…' Ollivander looked up at Amoret, smiling. 'Your grandfather would have been proud — he was a powerful man Terrin Peverell, it was a pity he, his wife were murdered like that. One of the greatest calamities of our age the night the Peverell family finally came to an end.'

'You could say that,' Amoret whispered, as Ollivander waved her wand and a stream of purple silk exploded from her wand.

As Ollivander handed back Amoret her wand, Amaranth extended her palm to Ignatius who reached into his robe pocket and with a reluctant pause, handed over her wand. As soon as the Azkaban prisoner was handed her wand, the adults tensed, their mouths thinning, as if waiting for the witch to kill them all. For a brief second, Amaranth breathed deeply, her magical core settling as her wand was returned to her before she strode firmly towards Ollivander and pressed the wand into his hand.

'My, my.' Ollivander said, looking at the witch. 'I never assumed I would see this wand — not ever. I was told that it was lost when your cousin, Isolt Sayre buried it in Ilvermorny, but I guess the legend wasn't true.'

Amaranth grinned slightly as Ollivander looked at the wand, his eyes dark with sadness as if afraid to say annoying.

'Snakewood,' he muttered, eyes closed. 'Basilisk horn. Nineteen-inches. Asleep.'

Ollivander looked at Amaranth.

'So, the wand of Salazar Slytherin had returned to one of his decedents. I applaud you Miss Gaunt from hiding this from he-who-must-not-be-named. If he had discovered this wand — a wand of his ancestor, then I think he would not have been so easily stopped. You are lucky, Clare that he did not suspect his own cousin to have the wand he once desired.'

Amaranth grinned, nodding.

'It was my mother's wand, and her father's before hers, and his father's before him. Marvolo Gaunt held his wand once, used it to beat his daughter with and to torture the Muggle she loved. This same wand, split Marvolo's children's tongues as Lord Voldemort did to himself and to me. This wand has seen the darkness and light from all its wielders, but more importantly, the madness of the Gaunts. My great-aunt Merope Riddle stole this wand from her father and hid it in Wool's Orphanage when she gave birth to her son,' the witch smiled sadly. 'I think it was luck more than fate that led me to find it in that hellish place.'

Ollivander pressed her wand into her hand, satisfied by her answer.

'Good,' he said, turning to face Bellariese. 'Miss Black, I am to understand that your nephew is a Squib,'

'That would be correct.' Bellariese said.

'Then, forgive me, Earl, how am I supposed to judge his wand and magical capability?' Ollivander asked.

Bellariese smiled.

'Leave that to me,'

Reaching into her pocket, the witch unsheathed a long knife, and before anyone could stop her had dragged the blade across her palms. Quickly, she dropped to her knees and quickly drew a crude circle. The witch winced as her cut hands scraped across the dirty ground, the air catching her wounds as she spun around. Once the circle was complete, the witch looked up to Ignatius, and with a nervous shove, her uncle shoved her nephew into the circle.

'Give me your hand,' the witch hissed standing up.

'What are you going to do?' Arcturus asked, watching his aunt with heavy eyes.

Having not excepted his answer, Bellariese snatched up her nephew's hand and before he could protest had slit his palm open. The teen winced.

'Lets just say, this is an early birthday present,' Bellariese snapped, pressing her nephew's bloodied hand to her forehead as she did the same with him. 'A catch up on all the magic you have missed.'

'Huh?' Arcturus asked. 'What do you mean?'

Bellariese smiled and closed her eyes.

The words came before she could really think them, the Old Magic sweeping into her veins as she spoke in a tongue forgotten by most. A hungering darkness suddenly collided around the two, and Amoret gasped, finally understanding what was about to happen.

'NO!' Crouch roared, his voice echoing loading around the room. 'DO NOT DO IT! I FORBID YOU! IGNATIUS STOP HER!'

But Bellariese ignored her betrothed, and instead concentrated on the faint webs of magic that lay deep in her nephew's veins. Although virtually useless, Arcturus Black the IV did in deed possess a small handful of pure white magic. Having never been used, Arcturus' magical core and soul had never been tainted, and as it crashed headfirst into Bellariese's magic, it tried to put up a fight. Suddenly, Arcturus's soul was battling a dangerous game of light and dark, and as Bellariese's mind and soul drifted into Arcturus, his core expanded, suddenly overflowing with his aunt's magic.

A flood of air exploded around the two, and Bellariese opened her eyes as a giant web of magic formed around to the two. Ghostly figures floated being them, revealing their parents to the world and the extraordinary similarity between Arcturus and his father.

An eighteen-year-old Regulus Black stood by his son's side, his body and hair dripping wet as his pale face convulsed awkwardly as he drowned in an unknown body of water. To the boy's left, stood his mother, her long blonde hair wild and crazy as a long rope hung around Celesta Black's, (née Rosier), neck. A long ball dress swaddled his mother's body and as the woman of twenty-one stared up at the ceiling, her body seemed to sway as if she was hanging from the very bannister she had hung herself from.

Walburga stood on Bellariese's left, her stomach bloody as she bled to death, her white-blonde hair falling around her face as she flickered between life and death. Bellariese's father was covered in Dragon-Pox, his handsome face, frail as he died, his body passing back and form between the veil.

'Holy, mother of Merlin,' Ignatius' voice whispered.

But Bellariese was not listening to her uncle, and as she pushed her last flood of magic into her nephew, something suddenly exploded through her and her nephew's minds.

Her Naming — mess and confusing — flashed across the classroom, revealing Patronilla's difficulty as she tried to uncover the baby's name.

Sirius' sorting — the scream of applause when the hat screamed Gryffindor, and the sixteen-year-old boy sitting on his bed, sobbing silently when he uncovered his friend was dead.

Dorcas Meadows, her long hair flying behind her as she fell on a grassless wasteland, — the Avada Kadavra shining in her beautiful grey.

And lastly, the red haired man who had broken Bellariese's heart again and again.

Her vision swirled, as her gift over the futures vanished, fusing tightly with Actuators as their powers erupted into a shower of brilliant light. Bellariese never got to see how her nephew would do with Celesta's wand, nor did she get to see the strange reunion between Amoret and Amaranth increase, because as soon as she let go of Arcturus' head, the young Earl collapsed, her magic spent.

For a brief second, before the darkness consumed her, she saw her nephew falling to his knees, screaming as the hell of what might come flooded his mind and the curse of Bellariese Libra Black invaded his thoughts, mind and heart.

Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to become a Squib after all.


	4. A Red and Green and an Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Clare: kl-ai-r**

**Marvolo: Mar-VO-lo**

**Morfin: MOR-fin**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Druella: Drew-ELL-uh**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

**Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**Nymphadora: nimp-fa-DOOR-ah**

**Daedalus: dAy-d-ah-l-us**

**Icarus: ik-KER-rus**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**A Red and Green and an Old Friend**

_**3rd of September, 1971** _

_Sirius leant back in a worn chair; arms folded tightly across his body as he stared at the empty parchment and the quill that lay before him. It is hard to think in the Gryffindor common-room, especially when everyone was looking at him all the time as if he was about to kill them. True, James, Remus and Peter had been friendly and had been a well-worn shield against the withering glared his fellow Gryffindors sent his way, however, Sirius doubted they would understand, so he had moved to the library to conduct his letter._

_It was quiet, far too quiet, and every so often Sirius would notice Madam Prince scurrying in and out of rows of bookshelves, placing books back on their shelves and shushing at students for making too much noise. For the past five minutes, the Heir of Black had stared at the parchment, struggling to think up an excuse to write - to explain the horrible truth to his parents._

_'Struggling to write, are you?' a voice asked, and Sirius turned to find the girl from Bellatrix's wedding sitting beside him, a worn book on Blood Purity open wide for all to see._

_Her dark hair was pulled into a high ponytail, a thin pair of glasses sat on her nose, which made her green eyes suddenly look bigger than normal. A peacock feathered quill sat in her left hand, and Sirius suddenly realised with a shock, that one of the rings she wore on her hand was shaped like a snake. A quick glance at her badge confirmed at she was a Slytherin._

_'What is it to you?' Sirius sneered, moving away. 'Are you here to call me a Blood-traitor, too?'_

_The girl frowned, lips pulling into a scowl._

_'No,' she said. 'You cannot choose what house you are in.'_

_'Then what do you want?' Sirius asked._

_The girl smiled softly and turned back to her book._

_'I am just trying to make conversation,' she said._

_Sirius snorted._

_'With a Gryffindor?' he asked. 'Should you not be talking to the other snakes?'_

_The girl shrugged and turned a page._

_'The other Slytherin do not like me,' she whispered, keeping her voice down, so Madam Prince didn't hear her. 'Apparently having Gaunt as your surname unnerves people.'_

_Sirius froze, lips open. He'd heard that name before - all Purebloods had. According to his father, the last Gaunt to grace Hogwarts had been Morfin, and he had ended up in Azkaban Prison for murdering a wealthy Muggle family. Morfin, like his father, Marvolo, was ruthless, bloodthirsty, and had a mind riddled with incest. The family was what the Sacred Twenty-Eight liked to call, the "Dark Ones" the Witches and Wizards of society who took intermarriage a step too far by marrying their siblings, rather than cousins. Supposedly it was rumoured that they married each other to keep the bloodline pure, to maintain the secret of Salazar Slytherin close._

_Sirius gulped. If he was correct, then the girl sitting next to him was most lily off her rocker. He could not understand why the other houses were wary of her._

_'Really,' he said. 'I did not know,'_

_The girl set down her quill and gave him a look._

_'Yes, you did,' she snapped. 'Everyone knows my family is insane - just look at my grandfather, he went completely nutty and ended up in Azkaban for the second time.'_

_'You are Morfin's granddaughter?' he whispered._

_The girl hummed, and removed her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her neck with her thumb and forefinger._

_'Yes,' she whispered. 'I am the granddaughter of the mad one.'_

_She paused._

_'Mother used to say he was framed.'_

_'Framed?' Sirius asked. 'The man confessed.'_

_The girl shrugged._

_'My mother said a different tale.'_

_'And you believe her?' Sirius asked. 'No offence but I guess your grandparents were siblings - are you sure she is not mad?'_

_The girl breathed deeply, her eyes blazing for a few seconds as she stared at Sirius._

_'No, they were not,' she hissed. 'My grandfather's sister was dead by the time he got out of Azkaban… The first time. He married Clementina Selwyn by-election. My mother was their only child. Her name was Amoret.'_

_'Oh, sorry,' Sirius muttered._

_The girl's eyes narrowed._

_'Apology excepted,' she whispered and turned back to her book._

_'What are you reading?' Sirius asked, trying desperately to change the subject._

_The girl sighed._

_'Do you ever stop talking?' she asked._

_'You are the one who began first!' Sirius grumbled._

_The girl sent him another glare._

_'I am searching for my mother's name,' she said. 'I am trying to find out how she and my father died.'_

_'Maybe I can help,' Sirius suggested._

_He wasn't really sure of the girl, but he decided that he wanted to make it up to her for insulting her bloodline. The girl gave him another glare - apparently, she liked to do that._

_'I doubt it. You do not look like the kind of boy who knows how to read,'_

_'Hey,' Sirius growled, leaning forward._

_The girl smiled sweetly._

_'That was for calling my mother insane,'_

_She turned back to her book. Sirius looked at his parchment. He picked up the quill, twirled it, and then sat it back down on the desk. What was he going to write?_

_'You could just not say anything,' the girl suddenly said, eyes never leaving the book. 'Wait until Yule before spreading the news.'_

_'Why would I do that?' Sirius asked._

_The girl raised her eyebrows._

_'It might give you time to hide some money, you know, in case your family disown you.'_

_'Why would you care if I was disowned?' Sirius snapped._

_The girl looked away._

_'You sister and brother might,' she said, voice soft. 'It is not nice growing up without your family, or at least, family that care about you,'_

_As she spoke, Sirius suddenly remembered the man who had led the girl away, the terrified look on her face as she left._

_'You are Clare, are you not?' he said._

_The girl scowled._

_'How do you know my name?'_

_'The man said it when you were at Bellatrix's wedding.' Sirius said. 'Is he your brother?'_

_The girl stiffened, eyes suddenly glassy as she thought of the man. After what seems like an age, she turned to face Sirius, breathing slowly._

_'No,' she said, voice suddenly clouded with fear. 'He is my cousin.'_

_She was suddenly scratching at her left arm as if a rash or a cut lay under underneath the sleeve. From the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed that her arm was bound in bandages, just like the time he had met her. Maybe she had a skin decease - like eczema._

_'Should you not go and see a Healer?' Sirius asked._

_The girl frowned._

_'What?' she asked._

_'Your arm,' Sirius pointed at it. 'Have you got an infection or something?'_

_The girl shook her head._

_'No,' she said. 'It is nothing. Anyway, I have got some potions in my bag.'_

_Sirius turned away, nodding. In the end, it wasn't his business. He picked up the quill again as Clare's chair scraped across the stone floor._

_'It is almost dinner,' she said, packing her book, quill and glasses into her bag and stringing it over her shoulder. 'You best write your letter soon, or you'll miss it._

_It was a rather strange thing for a Slytherin to talk to a Gryffindor, especially one with a crazy family such as a Gaunt, but Sirius doubted anyone would talk. After all, both were technically classed as mambas of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no matter how insane one family was. As Sirius set quill to parchment, a small nagging voice suddenly filled his brain. He frowned, pausing on the "Dear" as a thought studiedly struck him._

_The only Amoret Gaunt he knew, had been a woman later known as named Amoret Peverell, and she had died two years ago in a tragic accident along with husband and daughter. As Sirius sat there, mind spinning, his thoughts suddenly paused on an old memory. It was a rather strange one and was at least two years old, but he faintly remembered the diamond face and dark hair of a young girl staring out of the Daily Prophet, and the headline that had crossed underneath it._

**_AMARANTH PEVERELL, HEIR, ASSUMED DEAD._ **

_His fingers turned numb, and he dropped the quill, ink spreading across the parchment like a spider's web. It wasn't Clare Gaunt he had just talked to, but rather, Amaranth Peverell, a girl who supposedly had been dead for two years._

* * *

**21st of November, 1994**

Bellariese awoke on a hospital bed, mind spinning and every bone in her body screaming. She winced as a green light pierced her vision, and she quickly batted the floating bubble away from her face as the faint figure of a stern-looking Healer approached her bedside. The Healer was old, his dark brown hair greying with age. His face was lined and weathered, brown skin reflecting off the lights as he knelt over Bellariese, clipboard in his hand.

'Earl Black?' the Healer said, touching the woman's arm as Bellariese turned to face him. 'How are you feeling?'

'Like I have been trampled by a heard of hippogriffs,' the woman winced, her lips dry and sore.

The Healer nodded, and write something down on his clipboard.

'That's to be expected,' he said. 'Now, you'll probably feel rotten for several months, but from the various tests I've conducted, there won't be any long time damage, considering what happened.'

He paused and flicked through his notepad.

'Now that you're awake, you can leave whenever you want.'

'How long have I been out?' Bellariese asked.

The Healer paused as if debating whether it was wise to tell her.

'I said how long?' the Witch pressed.

'You have been out for eight days,' a voice said, and Bellariese turned her head to meet the dark eyes of her aunt. 'And before you ask, the First Task is in three days,'

Druella Black sat a little bit away from Bellariese, reclining elegantly on a plush silver and black armchair, legs folded underneath her. A plaid expression crossed her squarish face; her white hair pulled tightly out of her face into a think bun. A layer of makeup covered up the massive burn that smeared the right side of her face, and her nails, which were painted a light grey, tapped the armrest loudly as her brown eyes stared at her niece.

Bellariese closed her eyes, hoping that she wasn't there.

'I will not disappear, Bellariese, so you can stop trying.' Aunt Druella snapped.

Bellariese opened her eyes, and her mouth pulled into a frown.

'Nice to see you too,' she muttered, pulling herself into a sitting position. 'Is this how people say, "hello," now? I must have missed much in those eight days for things to have changed that drastically?'

Druella raised her eyebrows and turned to the Healer.

'Thank you Healer Robbs; I will take it from here,'

Healer Robbs nodded, bowing his head slightly before leaving the room. It took Bellariese a little longer than she could have liked to admit that she was lying in the Black Suite. Unlike the white-washed walls and horrible hospital smell that surrounded the rest of St Mungo's, the Suite had a roll of grey and black striped wallpaper running across the walls. Five large windows faced Eastwards, showing the patients a lovely view of a brick wall, and sitting in the corner of the room was a round table with five armchairs surrounding it. There was six bed in the room, five of them empty, and Bellariese sighed softly, grateful that nobody else was in the chamber.

As soon as Healer Robbs left, Druella approached Bellariese's bedside, eyes dark with unimaginable fury.

'How could you,' she hissed, hand reaching out to grab Bellariese's arm. 'How dare you give up your magic to that…to that…Squib?'

Her grip was tight against Bellariese's arm, and her nails dug deep into the woman's flesh.

'It is lovely to see you too Aunty,' Bellariese muttered, as she struggled to pull her arm away. 'What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?'

'Why did you do it?' Druella growled, ignoring her niece's words. 'Why?'

Bellariese snorted.

'I thought it was evident,' she whispered. 'Arcturus needed magic, and I had some - simple.'

'No,' Druella cried, hand tightening. 'No, that is not it. You gave him your magic for another reason. Tell me!'

Her wand was out now and was pointing directly at Bellariese's throat.

'Tell me!' Druella roared.

'Mother,' a voice snapped. 'That is enough.'

Both Blacks' turned to see Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway, a large boutique of tiger lily's clutched tightly in her grip. Her grey eyes narrowed on her mother's wand, her lips pulled tightly against her beautiful face, that for a moment, Bellariese wondered if Narcissa was going to attach her own mother. Eternally, Druella relied her girl on Bellariese and stepped away from her niece's bedside.

'Narcissa,' she whispered. 'It is lovely to see you again,'

'You too, mother,' Narcissa whispered. 'I am here to talk to Bellariese. I was told to collect her as soon as she awoke.'

'I can do it,' Druella said, a little too sweetly for Bellariese's liking.

Apparently, Narcissa thought so too, for she fixed her mother a withering look.

'I am afraid not mother,' she said, stepping into the room with all the charm and grace a Black had. 'I was strictly instructed by Clare to collect her. I am afraid you have to leave.'

She paused.

'Now,'

Druella's face darkened, and for a few seconds, she stared at her daughter, before she turned, picking up her bag and leaving the room. She tactfully bumped her daughter's shoulder as she went, and for a few seconds, Narcissa did nothing but glare at her mother as she walked away.

'Horrid bitch,' Narcissa hissed, once she was sure her mother had gone.

Bellariese hummed, agreeing with her.

'You can say that again,'

The two witches stared at each other before Narcissa hurried over to Bellariese. She dumped her belonging on Bellariese's bed, and before the Earl of Black could react, Narcissa had wrapped her long arm around you younger cousin and was squeezing the daylights out her her.

'Oh Reece,' she whispered, gently stroking her cousin's hair. 'You have no idea how worried we all were? Arcturus and Amoret have been coming here nearly every day.'

'How are they all?' Bellariese asked once her cousin finally let her go.

Narcissa sighed.

'They are not doing very well,' she admitted. 'Amoret's glowering at anyone who comes anywhere near her and Arcturus keeps vomiting. He was setting things on fire last time I saw him.'

Bellariese smiled weekly.

'So the only spell he had ever managed to do is finally coming back to bite his behind,' she rolled her eyes.

Narcissa smiled, rolling her arms. She sat down on Bellariese's bed, gently touching her arm.

'How are you feeling?' she asked. 'According to Healer Robbs, you should feel something missing,'

Bellariese paused, her hand trailing to her abdomen. It was true, for she felt strange, as if something she had one had, something that kept her alive was now gone.

'I feel… Empty. As if my life force has been drained.'

'Technically, it was,' Narcissa said. 'You could have died, Reece!.'

Bellariese slumped against the pillows.

'I wish I had,' she whispered, turning her head away from her cousin to look out the window. 'Then maybe the Gods would forgive me,'

'Forgive you for what?' Narcissa asked, as if she had a board stuck up her back.

Bellariese sighed.

'It is nothing,' she muttered, turning back to her cousin. 'What time can I leave?'

'Whenever you want,' Narcissa answered, smiling softly. 'I went to the Black Manor to pick up some of your clothes. Kreacher was a little too happy to see me.'

She paled.

'I had forgotten how…enthusiastic he is,'

Bellariese grinned.

'He is fucking creepy,'

Narcissa laughed.

'Yes, I suppose he is,' she said.

The Witch grabbed her bag, pulling it towards her.

'Now I just grabbed some things, so I am sorry if they are not up to your usual taste.'

She tipped the clothes out onto the bed, and Bellariese reached forward to grab the skirt that landed on her thighs.

'You went really far into my wardrobe,' she whispered, staring at the black fabric. 'I have not worn this thing in years,'

Narcissa grinned.

'I thought you would like them,'

Bellariese rolled her eyes, and with the help of her cousin, pulled back the covered and got out of bed. It seemed an age before Bellariese was finally let loose, and after being checked at least nine times by various Healers, the Earl of Black was allowed to leave, her cousin on her arm.

It felt strange to wear a skirt after years of wear trousers, but Bellariese assumed her cousin was only trying to show people a point. That Bellariese Black, the most unfashionable Pureblood, could pull off being girly. A cream blouse and a pair of heeled shoes completed the look, which as people stared at the two woman, Bellariese was grateful that her long black robe concealed most of her modesty. She didn't like the looks people were giving her.

The two arrived by Apparition just outside Hogwarts, and Bellariese once again ignored the stares and whisperings voices that came her way. It was mid-afternoon, probably lunchtime and the people of Hogsmeade were wondering around gathering their local shopping. Narcissa's arm on the young Earl tightened as the two approached the school, Bellariese's cousin dragged her up to Hogwarts's gates.

A thin man, dressed in blue Hit Wizard robes met the two witches at the entrance, and after a short discussion with Narcissa, he let the two witches passed. Bellariese's stomach was rumbling by the time Narcissa managed to bribe her way into Hogwarts, that the Witch barely noticed her cousin watching her. Quickly, ignoring a few students, and ghosts that roamed the corridors, the two hurried towards the Great Hall.

'Mother?' Draconius whispered, standing to his feet as the two walked inside, once again ignoring the hundreds of faces that stared at them.

Apparently, the two had managed to catch the students while they were at lunch. Bellariese grinned, almost imagining the smirk that graced Narcissa's lips. Slowly, the Witch moved, revealing Bellariese to the stunned students.

'REECE!' a voice cried, and before Bellariese could move, a cloud purple tackled her in a tight hug.

Three more people jumped in Bellariese vision, and it took her a little while to work out that she was in the excited grip of her cousin, and dear friend, Nymphadora Tonks. It turned out that the three others were Amoret, Arcturus and Amaranth, and from the looks on their faces, it wouldn't take long for all three to pounce onto Bellariese, whether Tonks was there or not.

'Hey Tonks,' Bellariese breathed, ignoring the repulsed look Narcissa sent her estranged niece.' What you don't here?'

'I came to tell Mad Eye that I'd passed my Auror training and that I'm officially the last student he will ever train, but I must admit, seeing your dumb face is far more exciting,'

'How did he take it?' Bellariese asked.

Tonks hummed, in her ear.

'He glowered at me and walked away,' she snorted, 'but that's normal.'

Bellariese chuckled, pulling away to stare at her old friend. That afternoon, Tonks' hair was betrayed by her mood, and fell in thick, shining lengths down her back and was a startling purple. Her eyes glistened darkly behind her long lashes, and her wild smile looked a little eerie against her heart-shaped face. She was dressed head in a dark red tope, her clothes a mixture of magical and muggle, that it took Bellariese a second to realise that she was wearing a muggle-band t-shirt that she had never heard of.

'Who are the…Sex Pistols?'

Tonks grinned, looping her arm around Bellariese's shoulders.

'I'll introduce them to you later, Reece, but for now, I think the rest of your family are beginning to get impatient.'

Saying that Amoret, Arcturus and Amaranth were impatient, was like telling a dog not to jump. They stared at the Witch, wide-smiled and arms twitching as if waiting for a gun to fire so they could throw themselves at Bellariese.

'Come on you three,' Bellariese whispered, arms full, and before she could even breathe, the three had lunged themselves at her.

Bellariese laughed loudly, as Arcturus lifted his aunt into his arms, his head tucked tightly into her shoulder, as Amoret clung to her waist. Amaranth had her arms wrapped tightly around the two cousins, almost strangling Bellariese in her song hug.

'Hey, Draco,' Bellariese whispered, staring at the cousin who was watching the four with a mild expression. 'Do you want to meet more of the family?'

He frowned as Bellariese unpeeled herself from her family's mad hugs, and before Narcissa could protest, Bellariese and grabbed Draco's arm and Tonks' wrist and was forcing the two to shake hands.

'Draconius Lucius Malfoy, let me introduce you to your first metamorphmagus-ing cousin, Nymphadora Andromeda Isla Tonks.'

'DON'T CALL ME THAT!' Tonks roared, hair suddenly flashing to a dark red.

'Who, prefers to go by her surname only,' Bellariese added, a broad smile on her lips.

'You are Andromeda's daughter I presume?' Narcissa asked, and at her words, Tonk's hair suddenly drained to a dark brown.

Her Black features suddenly emerged, stamping out her father's kindly features in an instant and her heigh suddenly shot up so that she was a few inches shy of Bellariese's six feet one inch. Narcissa winced as she stared back at the face of her older sister.

'Does this help?' Tonks asked.

Narcissa said nothing.

'How are your parents?' she asked.

Tonks' eyes narrowed.

'Mum misses you, and Bellatrix you know. She cries for both of you nearly every night, wishing she could speak to you two.' Tonks sighed. 'However, she also knows Bellatrix will spit in her face, and you'll just turn her away.'

Narcissa winced, and Tonks stepped forward, face taut with anger.

'What my mother did wasn't wrong. She loved my father and me and left because she felt it was right. Let your mother and father disowned her all they want for marrying my dad, but don't let mum die without hearing from you. Don't you dare, Narcissa let my mother die, without seeing you again!'

With that, the daughter of Ted and Andromeda Tonks pulled away, face, height and hair transforming back into the purple haired witch that she was before she wrapped her arm around Bellariese's shoulder.

'Thank you for taking me back,' Bellariese whispered, nodding to her cousin. 'I will see you soon.'

Narcissa nodded, and before anyone could say anything, Lady Malfoy turned and walked away. Quietly, the ex-Hufflepuff witch pulled her friend over to her old house table, glaring at any student who stopped her.

Bellariese plonked beside Tonks, stomach churning.

'Please tell me I can eat something?' Bellariese pleaded, 'I haven't had a real mean in eight days!'

Amoret, Arcturus and Amaranth joined her, having left their spots to hug Bellariese. Amaranth laughed, and Bellariese was happy to see she had filled out, looking less like a creepy skeleton, and more like a slightly malnourished woman. She had cut her hair so that it fell to her shoulders in thick greying strands, and her eyes had a strange happiness to them. It was only then that Bellariese realised she had a hand on her daughter's arm, as if afraid to let her go.

'I see you too have become friends,'

Amoret nodded.

'Yeah, I thought it was about time to talk to my own mother. If I can talk to her, then maybe I can talk to dad too,'

'Good,' Bellariese whispered,d excepting the bowl of soup that Tonks sent her way.

Arcturus nervously watched his aunt, fingers whirling his mother's wand.

'How are you Arc?' Bellariese whispered. 'I heard you are struggling.'

Arcturus nodded.

'Professor Snape had been helping, and so has Professor McGonagall, but I feel like I am not getting anywhere. I am useless! Every spell I ever do keeps exploding in my face.'

'He is great at potions thought!' Amoret put in, as she attacked her sandwich. 'He had put half of the Seventh Years to shame, and according to Snape, he might be better than Uncle Regulus!'

Bellariese grinned, folding her arms across her chest.

'Well, that is wonderful.' she said. 'You are not useless, Arc. It takes a genius to do the things you have been doing,'

'But it is on your magic,' Arc muttered, angrily. 'Once this Tournament is over, I am handing your magic back to you,'

Bellariese hummed, eyes narrowed. She pointed her spoon at Arcturus.

'Be truthful, do you want to keep the magic?'

Arcturus bit his lip.

'Yes,' he whispered.

Bellariese smiled softly.

'Then keep it,'

'No,' Arcturus roared, eyebrows raised, ignoring the whispering stared that came his way. 'I cannot do that to you! What about your career! Your life! You will be disowned,'

'No, I will not. My job is looking after you lot, gathering rent from Knockturn and Diagon Alley and sometimes making an appearance on the Wizengamot and attending Hogwarts Board meetings,' Bellariese muttered. 'Only I can disown myself, and besides, you need magic more than I do,'

Arcturus paused, thinking.

'Can we wait until the final task before we make a decision?' he asked.

Bellariese smiled and stuck out her hand.

'We have a deal, young man,' she said as her nephew shook her hand. 'Now, before I carry on, have you had any…strange dreams or blackouts?'

Arcturus frowned.

'No, not since you transferred your magic. I saw a lot of jumbled up memories, and a lot of weird stuff,' he said. 'Why?'

'Nothing, nothing,' Bellariese muttered, suddenly lost in thought. 'I was just wondering.'

Something was wrong, very wrong. If Arcturus didn't have her Seer power, where were they? She hadn't had a vision in a while, and if Arcturus had only seen her past visions, then where on earth was the Seer. Was it still inside of her?

Bellariese shrugged, lifting her spoon up to her mouth. Suddenly a sharp pain snapped down her spine, as an image of what was about to come drifted into her head.

'Reece?' Tonks asked, worry clouding her voice as her cousin doubled over clutching her head. 'Bellariese?'

Bellariese winced, jabbing her pressure points as the images flashed harder and stronger through her head. They passed so quickly that she barely had time to see them.

She cried out falling off the bench.

_Cedric Diggory._

_A graveyard._

_Viktor Krum._

_A green light._

_Fleur Delacore._

_Dead._

_Potter._

_A cauldron._

_Arcturus._

_Cloaked figures._

_Amoret._

_Skeleton-baby-thing._

_Amaranth._

_Ghosts._

_Bill._

_Bill._

_Bill._

'REECE!'

Tonks was screaming now, shaking her, begging her to stand up. Someone called for Snape, and a second later her ex-Potion's Master was hovering over her. He forcibly grabbed her arms, stopping her jolting body, as he ordered Amaranth to open her mouth. A horrible tasting liquid flooded her mouth, and it took Bellariese a little while to realise that it was the potion. Then the voices faded and she was knocked out. Sometimes, she really hated being a Seer.

She awoke again, several hours later, back on a hospital bed. Amoret was to her left, head on Bellariese's legs, while Arcturus held her right hand, awake and full eyes streamed with tears.

'Hey,' Arcturus whispered, wiping away his tears. 'I thought we had lost you for a second.

'You can't lose me that easily,' Bellariese whispered, smiling softly and squeezing his hand. 'Where's Tonks?'

'She went home,' Arcturus said. 'She wanted to say, but Professor Sprout told her to leave. She said she would see you soon.'

'Oh,' Bellariese whispered, feeling sad.

'Are you feeling okay?' Arcturus asked.

Bellariese let loose a broken laugh.

'Yeah, sure, if you think being bombarded with visions sounds like fun!"

'Visions?' Arcturus asked.

Bellariese waves his question away.

'It does not matter,' she whispered.

Arcturus looked down, and then after am omen's hesitation said,

'Why did you really give me your magic?'

'Is that how everyone says, "hello," now?' Bellariese drawled. 'What is the world coming to?'

'Why did you give me your magic?' Arcturus asked again, leaning forward so that his nose was almost touching his aunt's nose.

Bellariese sighed, turning away.

'Do you remember the time I told you the story of Daedalus and his son, Icarus?' she asked.

Arcturus frowned.

'Yes,' Arcturus answered. 'Daedalus told his son not to fly too close to the sun, or he would die. Icarus ignored him and flew up into the air, the wing melted, and he died.'

'Yes,' Bellariese responded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 'But do you remember the second part of that story?'

Arcturus frowned, his eyebrows furrowing.

'No? Well, I'll tell you again. The second rule Daedalus told his son, was not to fly too close to the water, or he would drown.'

'Right,' Arcturus muttered, resting his chin on his knees. 'Where are you taking this?'

Bellariese smiled softly.

'Since you were born, Arcturus, you were told not to stretch your wings, because you were a Squib. You said that you would never amount to anything and that you were a disgrace to the Black name,' the Witch shook her head, smirking. 'I gave you my magic to teach you a lesson.'

Arcturus frowned, lips drawing thin.

'Like Icarus, you ignored me, but instead of flying high, you fell.' Bellariese continued. 'You got too close to the water. You, drowned, but with my magic, I managed to remind you of Hubris - you needed to rise, and that is exactly what my magic did. You drowned yourself, as then my magic mulled you over and spat you back up into the sky.'

She smiled.

'So Arcturus Regulus, underneath my magic, underneath my gifts, you are a Squib. However, you will be by far the best Squib this world has ever seen. I have given you a chance to stay a Black, and not be disowned,' the Witch turned away, her eyes darkening as she stared up at the star-speckled sky. 'Fly as far as you can, and never let anyone tear your goals away from you. Forget what my mother told you about being worthless; remember what the Daily Prophet said about you being magic-less, and prove them wrong. Show to people that Hubris can be a good thing, by revealing your ambitions to the world and blow everyone out of the water. Be the Slytherin you were born to be… But at the same time, don't fly too high.'

Arcturus left soon after that, quivering from head to toe, carrying a sleeping Amoret in his arms. He never noticed the thin smile that traced his aunt's lips. The Witch stared up at the open window, tilting her head back, allowing the star's light to comb her neck as her eyes fixed on the constellation above her and the Plough, the Big Dipper, the constellation of the ploughman, glowed back.

She sighed. The constellation had many names, many faces, and as the years grew, it gained many tales, but unlike her fellow witches and wizards, Bellariese knew another story.

The star, no matter how strange its ancient name Boötes was, the constellation's name was originally found in the Indo-European word, bheue. Or in English, imp, and furnished wings, which in turn, created a picture of a mischievous child flying through the air.

Or as her father liked to call it: Icarus, the star who fell.

* * *


	5. The Doll and a Dragonologist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Patronilla: Pat-tro-nilla**

**Clare: kl-ai-r**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Druella: Drew-ELL-uh**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth  
Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**Terrin: TEHR-IHN**

**Lucretia: LOO-krett-ah**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**The Doll and a Dragonologist**

**3rd of December, 1971**

_The sad truth was that Walburga Black hated her daughter, and while she pretended to love her youngest child, everyone close to her, knew it was a lie. Truthfully, Orion could never understand why, or how, his wife loathed their daughter because as far as he could tell, Bellariese was everything a baby should be. A giggling, hungry thing with a temperamental attitude that could rival Vulcan. Yes, he could see how his child's constant screaming could upset some woman, but still, Sirius and Regulus had cried just as much, and Walburga had been perfectly fine with them — that was until the boys began to walk._

_He supposed it had something to do with her name and the supposed curse that hung around it. If Orion was blunt, he thought the rumour of the "Seer's Curse" was slightly barbaric, especially with all the historical documentation around it. While that didn't necessarily mean that he point blank refused the stories, he did wipe the thought that his daughter may be a Seer, under the rug. To him, a name meant nothing, and whether a child was named by a Naming Seer or by their parents, he didn't care. To Walburga, the words and reasonings of Patronilla meant absolutely everything._

_For days after Bellariese's birth, the woman had milled in and out of the library, desperately searching for a way to discover if her child could see the future. She had tried everything, from ducking her child's head underwater to setting a ring of fire around her while she slept. Supposedly Walburga was doing it to conducted a terrifying moment so that the Seer gifts would activate, but Orion had a funny feeling that she was doing it as an excuse to kill their child._

_Throughout the year, he had watched Walburga with a hawkish gaze, his eyes never leaving her whenever she pretended to play, or talk with Bellariese. He had noticed hat Regulus was beginning to do the same, as if, finally understanding just how crazy his mother was. It was now his daughter's first birthday, and while she was a healthy, child, Orion couldn't help but notice there was something odd about her._

_The day of Bellariese's birthday rose without a hitch. The Lord awoke, changed and removed himself from his rooms to his study where he spent most of the day reading over documents and letters. There was a dull eulogy in the Daily Prophet about the life of Lady Tatiana Peverell, and several uninteresting complaints from shopkeepers in Diagon Alley, about the darkness around Knockturn Alley. He wrote back, of course, explaining to his tenants, that he could not control what went on in Knockturn Alley, as it was a safe space for any Dark Witch or Wizard, and under the Protection and Dark Secrets of seventeen-fifty-three, he could not legally kick out Mr Borgin, no matter how much he wanted to._

_It was around lunchtime when Orion decided to stretch his legs, and possibly order Kreacher to make him a cup of tea, when the real trouble finally begin. Snow had been falling fast all morning, and the Lord could see the effects of the white ice all over his window ledge, which was why he was hardly supposed when he heard his wife's loud scream._

_'Regulus!' she cried. 'I want you back here in five minutes! Do you understand?'_

_If Regulus heard his mother, Orion wasn't sure, but a thin smile danced across his face as he walked own the stairs to the kitchen. His son was wrapped in his mother's old Slytherin scarf; the thick wool wrapped tightly around the lower half of his face. A large coat hung off his shoulders, and in his arms, sat his sister._

_Bellariese looked slightly ridiculous._

_Regulus must have searched high and low for the hat, for it was one Orion had not seen anyone wearing in years, but it covered his sister's black-haired head, so much so that she was trying to push the damn thing out of her eyes. It had once belonged to Orion's elder sister, Lucretia, and looked like something that would come out of a horror book. It was large and fluffy, made from a dead reindeer long forgotten. However, as Orion set his eyes on his youngest child, he couldn't help smile. In the crazy hat and little coat, she looked an awful like the old photographs of his sister, when she was Bellariese's age._

_'Do not worry, mother,' Regulus muttered, gently tugging on his sister's hat so she could see. 'We will be back before you know it. I just want to go up the street - Reece has never seen snow before.'_

_Walburga's lips tightened._

_'Her name is Bellariese, Regulus, not Reece!'_

_Orion doubted that Regulus heard her. As the door shut, his wife turned to face him, lips pursed._

_'_ _There is a parcel for you on the drawing room,' she snapped, drawing herself up to her full height. 'Inspect it,'_

_Once, Walburga had been pretty. With her silvery blonde hair and dark blue eyes which reflected the Caspian Sea, she was the meaning of a Pureblood daughter should be. However, as the years passed, and their marriage tightened in ways Orion had never pictured in his twenties, Walburga tuned bitter, her hatred for all things different reflecting on their eldest son and only daughter. Only their middle son, Regulus, ever gained praise, and that was because he was, in Walburga's eyes, perfect._

_Orion nodded, bowing his had to her in the way of thanks before moving past his wife and into the drawing room. Like the rest of Twelve Grimmauld Place, the drawing room was dark and cold. Even with the fireplace flickering in the cover of the room, the dark magic that clung to the walls still managed to control the room included the temperature. A couch lined the west wall, staring out at the snow white street. Orion smiled as his son ran passed, Bellariese clutched tightly to his head as she rode on his shoulders. She laughed, eyes full with a mixture of fear and mirth._

_The box sat in the middle of the room, a green and silver striped paper encasing the strange gift. There was no bow, or embellishment to suggest that it was a birthday present, but as Orion moved around the centre of the room, cane tapping the box with curiosity, he couldn't help but think, that was precisely what it was._

_A present._

_He frowned._

_Hardly anyone knew it was Bellariese's birthday, which wasn't that surprising, considering that the young child of one year, wasn't exactly known in wider circles, however, that didn't mean Orion was a little bit wary of the gift. A thin table glinted in the cold light, and as Orion knelt down to inspect it, he thought he recognised the handwriting. Carefully, he drew his wand, and pressed the tip to the label, flipping it over to reveal what it said._

**_Happy Birthday_ **

_There was no signature at the bottom, no name to suggested who it had come from. With furrowed eyebrows, Orion pressed his wand to the wrapping paper, and with a harsh wave, the box rose into the air. The paper began to unravel itself before Orion's eyes, revealing a dark black box underneath and a thin golden string. Carefully he cut it, and the lid rose off by a pair of invisible hands. It tilted towards him so he would no have to touch the gift._

_It was a doll._

_Orion frowned. As far as he could tell, there was nothing wrong, nothing distantly dangerous about it. Black hair framed the doll's face, landing softly above her ears. Her eyes were made of grey buttons, and reminded Orion of the sea on a miscible day. She wore an ugly blue dress, which as the doll sagged against the box, Orion realised had to be made from faerie wings. On her feet were a pair of dragon hide slippers, that were possibly the smallest shoes Orion had ever seen._

_He waved his wand, checking for any hexes or cursed._

_Nothing._

_Deciding that the doll was safe, Orion plucked the box from the air and took it in his hand. As soon as his fingers pressed on the doll's pale skin, he immediately knew something was wrong._

_A scream ripped down the street, and a second later, Regulus was calling out for help. Doll still clutched in his hand, Orion sprinted out of the house, Walburga not too far behind him. Regulus sat in the middle of the street; arms wrapped tightly around a tiny figure lying in the snow. Muggles surrounded the two, all wearing warm jumpers and thick coats, that has Orion approached the group of huddled children, he suddenly didn't care if people saw his black robes or his strange, Edwardian style of clothing._

_'Out of my way,' Orion snapped, long fingers reaching out to push a child aside as he advanced on his son._

_The Muggles stared up at him, terrified, as Orion knelt beside Regulus. His heart sank when he noticed that it was Bellariese who lay cuddled in his arms. Her face was a pale white, her eyes staring up at the sky in terrified fright as she jolted and thrashed against her brother. She seemed to be uncontrollable of her actions, and as Orion stared at her, he wondered if this was a psychotic episode._

_'What happened, Regulus?' Orion whispered, touching his son's shoulder with a calm, but steeled hand._

_Regulus shrugged._

_'_ _I—I do not know,' the boy gasped, hot tears running down his face. 'I had her on my shoulders, and she was gripping my neck and head tightly, and then the next she… She…'_

_He pressed his head into his father's neck, as Bellariese opened her mouth in a silent scream. Blood pulled under Bellariese's throat, as she slowly gasped, dying beneath injury Orion could not place. How had she been hurt? There was no rocks or stones? A spell maybe?_

_'Regulus!' Walburga screamed, pushing her way through the crowd as she reached her son. 'Are you hurt?'_

_Regulus didn't answer, and as Walburga pulled him away from Orion, colliding him as best as she could, she never noticed her daughter. Regulus tried to touch his sister's face, but he was pulled back by his mother. Orion wanted to scream. What could he do? If they were alone, he would heal her with magic, but with Muggles all around him, Orion was stuck. What could he do?_

_By now parents were coming out of their homes, curious as to why the mysterious Black family was out of their house, and who had screamed. Usually, Orion would have ignored them, but now, surrounded by Muggles, in the street with his writhing daughter, he wanted to curse everyone. Damn the Statute of Secrecy!_

_'What's that mister?' a Muggle suddenly whispered, pointing at the doll, curiosity lining his face. 'It kinda looks like her!'_

_Orion froze, hand uncurling around the doll's body. He hadn't realised he had been holding it, and now that he was in the cold light, he noticed something he hadn't seen earlier. A sliver pin embedded deep in the doll's throat. His lips curled._

_A voodoo doll…it was a fucking voodoo doll._

_Something else caught the light, and Orion quickly turned the doll over with shaking hands. A note was pinned to the doll's back and was written in the same spindly hand as the card._

**_I warned you, Black, that by not joining me, there would be consequences._ **

_His mind suddenly flashed to his school days, to a handsome young man with dark eyes and a wicked smile. A boy, who had claimed to be Salazar Slytherin's heir, even though he was a filthy half-blood. A boy who, at the time, had a ridiculous nickname._

_Orion's blood froze._

_A man, who was now masquerading, as a potential Dark Lord._

* * *

**22nd of November, 1994**

The scar glimmered faintly in the moonlight, the silvery memory of almost death burned tightly into her neck. While it was true Bellariese did not remember that fateful day, her visions critically did, and often the young witch would awake in a sheen of sweat, fear crossing through her body as she lay in bed, fearful of what day would bring. Which was why, Bellariese was hardly surprised to find herself walking through the Forbidden Forest, at midnight, with nothing other than a thin cloak to keep her warm.

There was something strange about the forest, something that had always drawn Bellariese towards it. Maybe it was the dark magic, the familiar strands of power that combed the wood. Or perhaps it was the adventure, the stories she could tell of her experiences in the Forbidden Forest. Whatever the cast, Bellariese often found herself, particularly during her fifth year at Hogwarts when her mother died, wandering the damp, forest, in nothing but a nightgown and cloak.

With barely two days left until the First Task, the young witch was a trying to rack her mind with possible answers. Although her visions had shown, which she hoped weren't dragons, she never really liked to rely on them. Besides, even if she did, it wasn't like she could tell anyone. The last person she had told, had ended up dead.

The witch huffed as she tucked under a tree branch, her anger and pain for her niece and nephew straining through the air like broken glass. Truthfully, Bellariese wasn't all that consider for Amaranth, as the witch could take care of herself, and if any woman had a change of winning this mad Tournament, it was her. Arcturus and Amoret on the other hand, not so much. Out of the six competitors, those two had the highest chance of actually dying. Amoret was thirteen, a girl stuck in an adult's game, while Arcturus could barely do magic. Bellariese sighed and rubbed her face. She should have trained them harder, should have at least prepared them for something this mad!

Unlike her childhood, which had been filled with Pureblood Etiquette and rigorous magical training even before Hogwarts, her niece and nephew had lived in relative comfort. True, there was the various balls and dinner the two had to attend, but in the end, their childhood was unblemished. Then again, they had never had the constant feeling of Death nagging at their heels - they had never grown up in a war.

It was hot, something which Bellariese found odd, considering that it was freezing moments before, but as she got closer and closer to the middle of the forest, the witch suddenly noticed that several f the trees were charred, as if they had been burnt. Her heart dropped. Reaching deep into her cloak pocket, she unsheathed the long knife that had been presented as a late Yule-tide present fourteen years before. Given to her by her maternal figure, an older cousin, the sharp blade looked early like Bellatrix's own. Carved from the same wood, the mad witch hand handed Bellariese the weapon on her tenth's birthday, proclaiming that since she was a Black, she had to learn the art of weaponry. Most of her family knew how to wield a sword, heck, even she had been practising sword fighting right up until her final year, but still, knives were a rare thing in the Black family, and were mostly presented to the women of the family.

Suddenly grateful for Bellatrix's training, Bellariese moved toward, back pressed up against the black trees as she followed the cared remains. It didn't take her long to find the source of the smouldering trees, and as the witch broke into a brunt clearing, she suddenly wished she hadn't. Six huge dragons stared down at her, their eyes hungry for what she assumed was deep-charred-witch.

They were enormous, standing at least several feet above the tallest trees and were on their hind legs. The fire was shooting all over the place, the animal's fangs dripping with saliva as they outstretched their necks. The six dragons all turned to face her, and before Bellariese could run, shot fire in her direction.

'Reece!' a voice roared, and a second later, the Heir of Black was lying on her back, with a burly man hovering over her, fire streaming all around them.

It took the witch a little longer than she would have liked to admit that the person lying above her was a man who she had once tried to knock off his broom with a bludger. Charlie Weasley grinned, cocking his head as the witch wanted to kick him off.

'Charles Septimus Weasley you better get off me, or by Morgana's head I will kill you,' Bellariese breathed, heart pounding. A low chuckle escaped the dragonologist's lips.

'Bellariese Walburga Black,' Charlie breathed, leaning back to look at his old friend and folding his arms across his chest. 'Is that any way to talk to your potential brother-in-law?'

'Ex-potential brother-in-law,' Bellariese snipped, resting her elbows underneath her, to look up at him. 'I never said, yes.'

'Yeah, you broke his heart didn't you,' Charlie muttered, rising to his feet, and dusting himself down. He gave Bellariese a rare look.

'That was a mean trick to play on my brother, twisting him around your finger like that, when he was all but ready to kiss your feet.'

Bellariese's lips curled, and she rose to her feet.

'I do not think William was about to do that,'

Charlie smirked, rolling his eyes.

'Trust me, Reece. He was.'

Anger fading, he smiled, wrapping an arm around the witch's shoulders.

'So, what brings my distant cousin to my door? Huh?' he grinned, giving her a small shake. 'Did you miss me that much? Want to knock my head off again with a bludger?'

Bellariese rolled her eyes.

'Shut up, Charles,' she muttered, a thin smile gracing her lips. 'Why would I see your ugly mug when I could talk to your sister and brothers instead?'

Charlie laughed.

'True!'

Thankfully, the two moved away from the fire-breathing dragons, leaving the thirty or so, other dragonologist were left to tame the wild predators.

'So I hear you lost your magic,' Charlie muttered, as he deflected a stream of flame with his wand. 'What happened there?'

'First of all, I did not lose my magic; I transfused it by unsung very dark and powerful magic so that my nephew could compete in this bloody tournament, and secondly, how the hell do you know that?'

'There was an article about it in the Daily Prophet,' Charlie admitted. 'There was an entire spread on the Champions, although, from what I could tell, Skeeter was mostly focusing on Harry, and how you are a demented, dark witch.'

Bellariese snorted.

'Well,' she whispered, 'it could be worse. Anything on the rest of my family?'

Charlie shrugged.

'Not, although people aren't pleased about the Clara Gaunt situation,' he paused. 'Do you think her name was put in for a laugh?'

'I hope so,' Bellariese muttered. 'There will not be many who remember her, so I think it was an older student. From which house, or school, well that could be anyone, but I have a funny feeling it was a Hogwarts student whose family knew the Dark Lord well.'

'Why?' Charlie asked.

'Because the name that was written on the parchment was her birth name.'

'Birth name?' Charlie asked, brows furrowed. 'You mean to tell me Clare Gaunt isn't her name?'

Bellariese shook her head.

'She is Amaranth Peverell.'

'Bloody hell,' Charlie whispered, had to rest across his face. 'You mean to tell me she's the lost daughter of that Terrin Peverell fellow - the founder of the Death Spiral and famous Unspeakable?'

'Yes,' Bellariese whispered. 'From what I have been told, she was kidnapped by the Dark Lord after her parents died. She was tortured and forced to kill people before being trained to become a hardened murderer under the Dark Lord. By the time she graduated, she was barely sane. Without my brother, I doubt she would be able to remember her name.'

Charlie stopped, hand resting on Bellariese's shoulder.

'Reece, you do realise Sirius is a madman and a murderer, right?'

Bellariese licked her lips, the lie crossing her lips faster than she could breathe.

'I know,' she said. 'But he was not one when they were sixteen - she is the reason why he left. Our parents never approved of Clara…or Amaranth.'

Charlie looked away, suddenly interested in his precious dragons.

'What is wrong?' Bellariese asked, stepping away from him to give her old friend a queer look. Charlie's eyes narrowed.

'Someone is standing near the dragons,' he whispered, hands reaching for his wand. 'I think it's Hagrid.'

Bellariese frowned, looking in the direction he was watching. Her mouth broke into a smile when she noticed the giant frame of Madam Maxine and the scruffy, lightly smaller stature of Hagrid.

'I think he is on a date,' she said, laughing to herself as the Headmistress of Beauxbatons turned to Hagrid, face pale. 'Madam Maxine looks like she is about to explode,'

A loud roar suddenly flooded the area, and Charlie and Bellariese turned away from the two giants and towards the dragons. High above them, the Norwegian Ridgeback and the Hungarian Horntail yowled in rage, fire spitting from their tongues. Rushing forward, the Dragonologist snatched up the Horntail's chain, Bellariese following suit with the Ridgeback's and before she could comprehend what she was doing, she was pulling the deadly creature away, leading it towards its cage.

'Keep back there, Hagrid!' Charlie yelled, straining as the chain slipped in his grip. 'They can shoot fire at a range of twenty feet, you know! I've seen this Horntail do forty!'

'Stop bragging,' Bellariese hissed, shooting her friend a look. 'You're supposed to be looking after me,'

Charlie laughed, ducking as the dragon fiercely whipped his head.

'You're doing fine!' he cried. 'A real natural!'

Bellariese's stomach rolled as the dragon looked at her, hungry fangs open wide. She had a funny feeling that the Ridgeback wanted to eat her. She shook her head, as other Dragon Keepers rushed forward, helping the two look after the deadly creatures.

'It's no good!' yelled the wizard beside Bellariese. 'Stunning Spells, on the count of three!'

Bellariese stepped away, rushing towards Hagrid as the other Dragon Keepers pulled out their wands, pointing them at the creatures. She ducked, covering her eyes as loud shouts filled the air.

"Stupefy!"

Thirty or so fiery rockets of red light burst around her, the Dragon Keepers trying to tame the Ridgeback and Horntail. The two dragons roared, shooting fire in Charlie's direction and Bellariese held back a scream as the Dragon Keepers forced the dragons to the ground, pulling on their chains and securing them with iron pegs.

Bellariese's knife was tight in her grip as Hagrid looked towards Madam Maxime, a look of excitement on his face.

'Wan' a closer look?' he asked her, as Charlie approached. They two giants moved closer to the fence, and after a moment's hesitation, Bellariese followed suit.

'All right, Hagrid?' Charlie panted, grinning at the two. 'They should be okay now - we put them out with a Sleeping Draft on the way here, though it might be better for them to wake up in the dark and the quiet - but, as you saw, they weren't happy, not happy at all -'

'I fucking hate you, Charles Weasley, I bloody well hate you.' Bellariese hissed, grabbing her friend's arm and shaking him. 'If you die, your mother will skin you, and I will help!'

Charlie laughed, throwing an arm around Bellariese's shoulders.

'Gods, Reece, I missed you.'

Bellariese scowled and pushed Charlie away.

'Fuck off,' she muttered, eyes rolling, a thin smile on her face. Hagrid, who was gazing at the Horntail, blinked at Charlie.

"What breeds you got here, Charlie?" he asked. Charlie pointed at the dragons, a wide grin on his face.

'This is a Hungarian Horntail,' said Charlie. 'There's a Common Welsh Green over there, the smaller one - a Swedish Short-Snout, that blue-grey - a Chinese Fireball, that's the red - a Hebridean Black standing behind him - nasty bugger, and the copper one's a Peruvian Vipertooth. Oh and the black ridged one is a Norwegian Ridgeback.'

Bellariese shivered.

'I hope whoever gets the Ridgeback knows what they are doing,' she breathed. 'It is nasty.'

Madame Maxime had strolled away, peering at the enclosure, gazing at the stunned dragons.

'I didn't know you were bringing her, Hagrid,' Charlie said, frowning, finally noticing the Headmistress. 'The champions aren't supposed to know what's coming - she's bound to tell her student, isn't she?'

'Jus' thought she'd like ter see 'em,' shrugged Hagrid, still gazing, enraptured, at the dragons.

'Really romantic date, Hagrid,' Charlie said, shaking his head. 'Reece stumbled in by accident. Lucky I was there, Reece, or you'd be dust,'

Bellariese glowered at him.

'Fuck off,' she snapped again, 'I had a nightmare,'

'So you came out here?' Charlie asked, eyebrows raised. 'You're a weird one, Reece,'

Bellariese rolled her eyes.

'Six…' said Hagrid, 'so it's one fer each o' the champions, is it? What've they gotta do - fight 'em?'

Bellariese shuddered.

'I hope not,' she breathed. 'I hope not. I do not think Arc would survive. Amoret maybe, but Arcturus…'

'Just get past them, I think,' Charlie said. 'We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why...but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. Vicious thing - their cousins to the Ridgebacks, who are also vicious. The Horntail's back end's as dangerous as its front, look.'

Charlie pointed toward the Horntail's tail, and Bellariese let herself turn green. Five of Charlie's fellow keepers were staggered towards the Horntail, carrying a clutch of substantial granite-grey eggs between them in a blanket. They placed them carefully at the Horntail's side who, in her sleep, curled her tail tightly around them. Hagrid let out a moan of longing. Bellariese closed her eyes, suddenly wishing she could be elsewhere.

'What about the Vipertooth,' Bellariese muttered, pulling her cloak further around her shoulders. 'My uncle died from its poison. All it took was one paper cut, and that was the end of Uncle Cygnus. According to Aunt Druella, he was screaming for hours, the poison slowly turning his guts to mush. Unsurprisingly it was Great-Aunt Cassie who killed him. She always loathed his guts and had all the motive and reason for murder, but the Wizengamot bent the rules so she would not have to stand trial. According to my Grandpapa, it would have looked bad to have another member of the family in Azkaban, so they…covered it up.'

Charlie looked at her, eyebrows raised.

'Your family's messed up,' he said. Bellariese shrugged, licking her lips.

'My great-geat-great grandfather killed his father by pushing him down the stairs; my mother tried to kill me because I was named after a Seer and she was superstitious; and may I remind you, Charles, that your grandmother, was a Black. It is your "messed up" family too - you just did not see the insanity that drove everyone mad.'

Charlie coughed, suddenly realising the extent of Bellariese words. He looked nervously at Hagrid who was still watching the dragons and their eggs.

'I've got them counted, Hagrid,' said Charlie sternly, as if knowing the giant's thoughts. He paused, and then after a moment's thoughts continued. 'How's Harry?'

'Fine,' said Hagrid. He was still gazing at the eggs.

'Just hope he's still fine after he's faced this lot,' said Charlie grimly, looking out over the dragons' enclosure. 'I didn't dare tell Mum what he's got to do with the first task; she's already having kittens about him….'

Charlie screwed up his face, his voice suddenly changing to his mother's anxious voice.

'"How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe; I thought there was going to be an age limit!"' he paused, shaking his head. 'She was in floods after that Daily Prophet article about him. "He still cries about his parents! Oh bless him, I never knew!"'

Bellariese shook her head.

'Skeeter likes to make things up,' she said, ignoring the strange crunching of feet that was silently moving away. 'But still, the boy has had a harsh life, but then again, so were our childhoods. The war…'

Charlie's face darkened.

'Yeah,' he said, running his hands over his arms. 'Yeah, we did…'

Bellariese sighed, licking her lips.

'I best get back,' she said, smiling at Charlie. 'Arcturus and Amoret will wake soon and will start looking for me. Amaranth will be worried too…'

She paused, considering her words.

'I'll see you at the task, and tell Bill…'

Charlie nodded.

'I get it,' he said. 'I'll tell him.'

Bellariese smiled, her hands running over her wrist as if trying to pluck the beautiful bracelet off. Her eyes were misty as she turned away, wrist burning with an intense heat that glowed like the sun. A thick ring of pain spun around her arm, the Blood Charm burning fiercely in the night air as full, ugly marks lit up, their meaning lost to time in the warm air. Made from crushed onyx and ruby, the bracelet looked harmless enough until an old Charmer realised that there was a curse on the stones, fused with the blood of Blacks.

Blood Magic, although illegal, and very deadly, was still used among the Pureblood families, as a sort of contract, which was why, as Bellariese walked away, eyes misty, Charlie looked a little less than pleased, as he stared at the horrid bracelet, and the meaning that tied to it. The Blacks, although dark and ancient, kept their promises, and no matter how hard Bellariese had tried to get out of her contract, her marriage to the Crouch family was as strong as the day her parents bound her to Barteimus Crouch Junior.

Bellariese closed her eyes as she walked, breath bated as she wondered whether if she could turn around and ask Charlie if his brother was going to the Tournament. She paused, turning back. Charlie was rushing to help his fellow Keepers; wand extended as they began to difficult task of moving six sleeping dragons into their cages. Bellariese smiled, shaking her head.

Out of all of her generation, at least one of them was in good hands. In the end, Charlie possibly had the best job out of all of them, for what twenty-something-year-old man wouldn't like dragons. Tonks was running around, blasting dark wizards to smithereens, something she had always wanted to do. Bill was out in Egypt, breaking curses and was far away from her, and Crouch. And she…well…she had her brothers' children and a lifetime of money to save her, along with the airs and graces of a Pureblood member of the modern-day wizarding society.

She grinned, walking on, pulling the cords of her cloak further around her face. As she picked her way through the forest, avoiding tree roots and branches, her heart leapt as she caught the smell of burning flesh, and in an instant, she turned back, expecting to see a burning wizard. But there was no angry dragon, no screaming man, and instead, Bellariese was met with the fresh air and looming trees of the Forbidden Forest, as if she had never seen the six dragons at all.

Shivering, Bellariese turned around, suddenly afraid. Had she talked to Charlie, or conversed with the Seer?


	6. The Box and a Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Clare: kl-ai-r**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

**Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**Salazar: sae-luh-zahr**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

**The Box and a Task**

**_3rd of June 1971_ **

_Diagon Alley was a rather interesting place, especially for a baby. It was dusty, loud and gesturally noisy. While Bellariese had grown used to the roaring screams of her mother, she certainly wasn't sued to the madness of the wizarding high street. She screamed, letting loose a wail that was loud enough to turn heads, and it was only when a sharp hand smashed against her skull, did she finally fall silent. Regulus, who was barely able to hold in a shout, coddled her as she began t weep, silent tears falling down her face as she breathed into his neck. His arms wrapped tightly around her, her little fists curling into his shirt as he glared daggers at their mother._

_Usually, their father would have accompanied them, his long cane batting anyone away from his precious family, but that morning he had been called away, to take his seat and rule the witches and wizards of the Wizengamot with a firm and cold hand. Sirius was still at school, and wouldn't return until at least late July, a time which the Black Siblings longed for and also loathed._

_'_ _Hey,' Regulus whispered, stroking his sister's head with a calming hand. 'Hey it is okay. Mummy did not mean to hurt you. She is just tired.'_

_Even at the somber age of one and a half, Bellariese could tell her brother was lying. She saw the fiery gaze that lingered in his dark eyes, the anger that coiled in his jaw as he stared at the blonde haired woman. She strolled ahead, completely oblivious to the sour looks passers by were giving her and angry glare from her youngest son._

_The warm sun beat down, shining fiercely on her black hair. She squirmed, suddenly too hot and would have released another yell, if it were not for the threat of being pummelled. Regulus, sensing her discomfort, removed her hat, tucking the green wool into his pocket. She smiled up at him, her only way of thanks shining strong in the summer air._

_It was strange, seeing her brother speak, and yet, her being unable to do so. Often she cursed herself, wishing she could scream back at her mother, in a language she understood. She longed for the day when she called her father "Papa" instead of an excited yelp. She frowned. Did that mean she should tell people the things she had seen?_

_While it was true most babies cried, Bellariese was sure, (simply from observing the other babies her mother allowed her to see), that most didn't cry as much as her. But unlike Ingrid Grimm, or Leopold Nott, she did in fact have a better reason to cry. Sure she cried when she was hungry, but most of the time, she cried because of the nightmares._

_They had come when she was about three months old, shooting down her spine in bellowing screams, that for the first few seconds, Bellariese's tiny brain and almost exploded. Having come to understand that most of her visions held death, she was more than a little unnerved when most of the people who died, were people she had never met. She'd seen her own death too; hundreds of different versions. It wasn't until she knocked over the strange glass ball that sat on her bookshelf, did she understand why she had the nightmares._

_She was a Seer… Whatever that was._

_Bellariese huffed, her eyes tuning to her brother as he followed their mother into a dark shop. They had been walking for several minutes, and while Bellariese had seen some strange things in her short life (like the terrifying robes that attacked her when she got too close; or the grandfather clock on the stairwell that was starting to throw bits of its clockwork at her head whenever she crawled past; or the conjoined mirrors that aways argued with each other whenever she looked at them; or the box that tried to eat her hand; or the sugar-pot that could waddle up and down the kitchen table handing sugar lumps to steaming teacups by its own accord), she had never been in a place as dark as Knockturn Alley._

_People hid in secluded archways, staring out at the Black family with bitter looks as they covered transaction deals and other dark nefarious acts. Others smoked cigarettes, their lips quivering as they blew intricate patterns in the air with the smoke. A few sold and bought drugs, their hunger for Opium and Heroine growing with the magical herbs the Drug Dealers infused in each dose. However, it was when Walburga Black stepped into the darkest most deadly shop Bellariese had ever seen, that Regulus clutched her tight._

_The shop was dark, dusty and very, very gloomy. Candles smothered the middle of the room, giving the shop and almost otherworldly glow. Scrolls, books, statues and pieces of jewellery that Bellariese would have sworn were cursed, peered out behind glass cases and a small animal, which was barely the size of Bellariese's fist, looked at her, it's beady eyes waiting for her to jump. The man behind the counter was as creepy and old as the shop itself. He was stooped, had grey hair, and a pair of thin spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose; when he bowed at Mrs Orion Black, his bones seemed to creak. He wore a long black robe, and his wand was held securely in his grasp, a warm light flickering on the tip._

_'_ _Madam Black,' he rasped, tongue licking his lips as he rose from the deep bow. 'How may I serve you?'_

_Bellariese decided, simply from the strange look he was giving her and Regulus, that she would come to hate this man. It was as if he was expecting their mother to sell them - although with her track record of trying to kill her, Bellariese wasn't that sure that her mother wouldn't one day try._

_'_ _Mr Borgin,' her mother said, her lips curling around his name like it was salt. 'I am here to pick up the music box I ordered.'_

_Mr Borgin's smile wavered for a second, and Bellariese wondered if he was debating to give it to her mother. After a moment's hesitation, Mr Borgin disappeared. He fumbled around in the back of his shop for a few minuets, obviously looking for the music box. By the time he came out again, Bellariese's mother was fixing him a shrewd look._

_'_ _Er…' the man said, spilling the box onto the desk. 'That will be nineteen galleons,'_

_Walburga Black narrowed her eyes even further, but dipped her hands into her robes, revealing a small pouch of coins._

_'_ _Can I have it wrapped,' she said, as if she were being an ornate object, not a cursed box._

_Borgin nodded, and grabbed a sheet of brown paper that was under his desk. He quickly wrapped the box, tapping it on either end with his wand to seal it. He handed the box to Mrs Black._

_'_ _Thank you,' Bellariese's mother snipped. 'But before I go, can you please unwrap it and let me open it?'_

_Mr Borgin froze, his mouth tightening._

_'_ _Of course,' he breathed, unwrapping the box._

_It took only a moment before the gift was unwrapped and as Walburga set her manicured hands on the creepy carvings on the wood itself, Bellariese leaned forward in her brother's grip to see what it was. There was a strange carving of a little boy covering his wars with his hands, and a large plant looming over him, as if the flower was prettying him to death. It might have been a sunflower of a rose, however, Bellariese could never identify it because every time her grey eyes landed on the flower, it changed._

_'_ _What is it, mother?' Regulus asked, staring at the box, his hands tightening around Bellariese as fear ran down his spine._

_Their mother smiled sweetly, hands set on the box. Why did she have wax in her ears?_

_'_ _Oh, nothing, dear,' she said, handing Regulus a set of wax earplugs. 'Put them in, please.'_

_'_ _What about Reece?' Regulus asked, slipping the plugs in his ear._

_Their mother's grin widened._

_'_ _Oh, she won't be needing them,'_

_And before Regulus could question their mother further, Walburga Black opened the box. A strange, twinkling tune rang around the shop, and as soon as the sound brushed against's Bellariese's cheek, her eyes grew heavy, and she yawned._

_She was so sleepy…so very sleepy…_

_Strange images of fluttering leaves, and odd flowers cast over the baby's mind, twisting and turning her thoughts until she collapsed out of her brother's arms, falling to the floor in identifiable sleep. Borgin made a funny sound, his hands clamped fiercely over his ears, as Regulus lunged to catch his sister. A cold hand bit into his shoulder, pulling him away._

_Bellariese Black rolled_

_The box slammed shut._

_Regulus rose, breathing heavily, his face red with unimaginable anger as he stared at the body of his sister. As his mother laughed, her high voice cackling around the shop, Regulus fell to his knees, shaking the baby as he tried to wake her._

_It was then that something very strange happened. She convulsed, her little head rising and falling as her body jerked and moved. Unsure what to do, Regulus sat beside her, covering her with his shadow as he tried to work out to do._

_As their mother's screams filled the air, Bellariese turned away, her little face pressed up agains the the floorboard of Borgin's shop. She breathed deeply, smelling the thick polish that coated the the floor, and before anyone could really stop her, the child rose to her feet._

_To any other parent, a baby taking her first few steps would have been met with high cheer and a warm hug. For Walburga Black, her laughter died in her throat, and she stumbled back, pulling her son back as her youngest child raised her head._

_'_ _What…' Walburga breathed, face flushed. 'She should be dead… She has to be dead…'_

_As Bellariese fixed her eyes on her mother, something shifted in her dark eyes. It was as if Bellariese had stepped thought a mirror, her body twisting and turning with her reflection. She could tell what was going on — see her mother's frightened face, but as she stepped forward, hands out, she saw something else._

_Fire — masses of it, twisting and turning in thick, uneven shapes, that as it rose above a burning city, the thing she saw took Bellariese by surprise._

_A phoenix burned in the night. It cawed, eyes glittering as it rose above a full moon, wings tucked into its side. Children screamed, their scarves of red and gold, yellow and black, blue and bronze and silver and green catching alight as they tried to run. Teachers charged forward, wands extended as they tried to battle the furious creature. But it was pointless - fruitless._

_She saw a future her, her long black hair spinning in the darkness as she fought beside a red haired girl no older than sixteen. Their wands flashed, spinning brightly in the air as they sent spell after spell after the phoenix. Before Bellariese could even shout out, the phoenix dove, it's hungry eyes settling on the girl. A fiery scream rose, as Fawkes the Phoenix, spun, fire flickering off it's wings like glass, throwing Bellariese and the girl to the ground, their hands and faces burn._

_'_ _Gin!' Future Bellariese breathed, reaching forward to grab the girl. 'GIN!'_

_But the girl remained still, her face blackened against the dark._

_Bellariese gasped, eyes widening, her little hands clutching her head, as the future was sucked away, and she was dumped rather unceremoniously into the present. She looked up at her mother, a thin smile still spread across her lips as she stumbled towards her._

_The Seer grinned._

* * *

**24th of November 1994**

Tuesday morning disappeared in a whirl wind of cups of coffee and Amoret's quiet whimpers. While Amaranth looked eerily calm, her long dark hair pulled tightly out of her face in a slick bun, Amoret was clutching her cereal bowl so tightly that Bellariese thought she might break it. Arcturus sat in various states of shock, his mother's wand twitching in his hand as he tried to remember the charm that Bellariese had found in an old book belonging to Celesta. It was a concealment charm and was far stronger than the originally charms learnt at Hogwarts as it hid the caster almost completely.

'But what if the spell is not supposed to be used on people,' Amoret hissed, as Bellariese pulled her into the Champions' Tent

'We will have two of you then,' Arcturus grumbled, as he rubbed his stomach. 'Just do it quickly if your first. I am starving,'

'Well, then you should have eaten more at lunch time,' Bellariese snipped, reaching a hand out of the tent and pulling her nephew inside. 'You are worse than your father.'

Arcturus snorted.

'From your stories Aunt Reece, my papa sounded like he had a bottomless stomach,' he grinned as he stood beside Amoret, and stared up at his aunt almost defiantly. 'And I do not have a bottomless stomach,'

'All this magic seems to have made you cocky, little bear.' Amaranth hissed as she ducked under then tent flap, her grey robes shimmering as she straightened them. 'Honestly, Arcturus did you mother never tell you it is rude to talk to your elders in that tone?'

Arcturus shrugged.

'She tried,' he muttered, suddenly looking dark. 'But my dear mother was dead before I could talk so she did not really have time to.'

Amaranth suddenly looked incredibly guilty, and before she could apologise, Ludo Bagman appeared by Bellariese's side.

'Ah, Earl Black, I see you've brought your charges. If you could just stand by Madam Maxine and Miss Delacour, that would be great,' he looked Amaranth up and down and skittered away a little bit, heading towards Viktor Krum who had just entered the tent with Igor Karkaroff.

Fleur gave Amoret a shred look, but her face immediately fell when she set eyes on Amaranth, and she shuffled away, her clammy face fearful. Cedric was pacing up and down, reminding Bellariese of an agitated bird while Viktor stared at the wall, face surly. Ludo was running up to each champion, asking them questions and what not, and while he stayed firmly away from Amaranth, he did as Bellariese if there was anything she wanted.

'No,' Bellariese said, looking at her sister-in-law, and shuffling further away from his horrid yellow Wasp robes. 'Miss Gaunt is fine.'

'Good…' Ludo stuttered, eyes drifting over the ex-Azkaban prisoner who sat beside her daughter, holding her hand. 'Good…'

His expression brightened when the tent opened again and the seventh and final champion entered the room. Truth be told, Harry Potter looked a little bit peaky, as if he hadn't slept well and as he surveyed the room, he stopped Amaranth. He started to make his ay towards her, most likely wondering how she knew him, but before he could, he was stopped by an over exited Ludo.

'Harry! Good-o!' said Ludo happily, rubbing his hands together. 'Come in, come in, make yourself at home!'

The man grunted, stepping away as Harry sat beside Cedric.

'Well, now we're all here — time to fill you in!' Ludo said, a little too brightly for Bellariese liking. 'When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag—'

He held up a tiny silk sack, and shook it. Bellariese's nose recoiled at the horrible shade of purple that was flashed in her face.

'From which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different — er — varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too . . . ah, yes . . . your task is to collect the golden egg!'

Nobody looked that surprised. Cedric nodded, and started pacing up and down again; Fleur and Viktor stayed still, slightly green; Harry looked ancient; Amoret shuddered while Arcturus rubbed his stomach. Only Amaranth smiled, her thin lips curling into a bright smile.

The marching sound of hurried feet, caused Bellariese to look between the tent and a small gap. Hundreds of children, ranging from eleven to eighteen comes in and out the stands, laughing and joking as they tried to find a seat. Teachers sat on the ends, their stern faces cold and unmoving as they tried to guide the students to their seats. The witch heard a loud shout, and a second later, Ginny Weasley was pelting her brothers, the twins faces sprung in a wide smile as they tired to avoid the bat-bog hex that sprung from her wand.

Bagman opened the sack.

'Ladies first,'

He offered it to Fleur who looked up, startled. With a shaking hand, she reached inside, pulling out a tiny flickering shape that Bellariese realised was a replete of a dragon — to be precise, a Welsh Green. A number two hung around its neck. The quarter veela looked up Madam Maxine, fear lining her lips.

Amaranth was next, and she reached into the back, her smile widening eve further as she pulled out the Peruvian Vipertooth. The tiny dragon spluttered in her hand, its copper body swishing. Amaranth cooed, finger running under the tiny dragon's throat. A one dangled from the dragon's neck.

Ludo, who was slightly repulsed by Amaranth's actions, quickly moved onto Amoret. The young girl was shaking as she reached inside, and she shrieked as the Norwegian Ridgeback stared up at her, it's hungry eyes flickering. It shook his head and Bellariese saw that a very large seven decorated its neck. The witch breathed deeply, staring up at her aunt with horrified eyes.

Bellariese patted her shoulder as Viktor, who had reached his hand in the pouch, pulled out a scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. Instead of panicking, the Quidditch Star sat on the ground, and began to play with the little critter, face blank.

Arcturus was given the Hebridean Black and his lips shuddered as he looked at it. Amaranth reached down, patting the creatures head. She hissed something, stilling the creature's erratic head, before doing the same to Amoret's.

Thankfully everyone was far to preoccupied with Cedric and his Swedish Short-Snout to notice. He would be going third. Harry, looked positively terrified, as the last dragon was tipped into his opened hand and Bellariese's heart skipped a beat as the Hungarian Horntail glowered up at him, a number four stretched across its neck.

'Well, there you are!' said Ludo. 'You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Miss Gaunt…eh…you're first…just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now… Harry…could I have a quick word? Outside?'

'Er…yes,' said the boy, before being led away.

Amoret turned to Bellariese.

'It is a Ridgeback,' she shuddered, handing the tiny replica to her aunt. 'A Ridgeback!'

She held her palms out to her aunt, pressing the tiny dragon close to her face.

'Take it. Fight it for me…' she begged, eyes watering. 'Please…'

Bellariese kneeling in front of her niece, and clasped her hand over Amoret's clasping the dragon in between her palms.

'I will take this little dragon,' she said, softly, 'But I cannot fight the dragon that you will face,'

She leaned close, her mouth resting above Amoret's ear.

'Remember your basic spells. Keep your wits about you, and do me proud.'

Tear rolled down the girls cheeks, and before Bellariese could compose herself, Amoret threw her arms around her aunt's shoulders, as a whistle blew. Amoret sobbed. Bellariese shared look with Amaranth, and before she could wish her well, the descendant of Salazar Slytherin, dropped her miniature dragon on Bellariese's head, steeled her shoulders and walked out of the tent and into the arena.

'I have to go,' Bellariese breathed, scooping Arcturus' dragon into her pocket and dropping the other too in as well.

There was a small hissing noise from inside her pocket, a scuffle and then silence. She gave Arcturus a fleeting hug and walked out the tent.

'Miss Gaunt has entered the stadium, and my doesn't she look calm…' Ludo roared.

Amaranth was staring up at her dragon by the time Bellariese found a seat. She had managed to plonk herself in the front row, squeezed in beside a couple of Hufflepuffs, who were watching the dragon with wide eyes. The Peruvian Vipertooth was huge. It loomed above Amaranth, its copper tail flicking in the afternoon sun. It's fangs dripped purple venom, its tongue hanging limp in its mouth as it covered it's eggs with its back feet. A golden egg glittered among the pale blue shells, and Amaranth took a step forward, her eyes fixed on the egg. It lunged at her, transforming into a blur of bronze light. Bellariese clasped her hands over her mouth and just before it could reach Amaranth and snap her up, the dragon crashed, head first, into a wall of magic.

BOOM!

Bits of flaming shield stained the rocky ground, shards of which Amaranth deflected with her wand. The dragon growled as the witch looked up as it, face cold as glass as she drew Salazar Slytherin's wand across her face, and with a sharp twist, black ropes bound around the Vipertooth. They twisting and turned over its body so that it's scaly flesh buckled.

'She's bound it!' Ludo screamed. 'She's bound it!'

The creature roared, venom splattering everywhere, so that a dome erupted around the stadium, protecting the spectators. Children screamed, and Bellariese heard the Weasley Twins laugh.

That is when the hissing began.

It came somewhere deep from Amaranth's throat, a horrid, toned tongue that slithered and squirmed over her lips. A deep haze rose from the ground, covering the stadium in a thick glare of black fog, and though the darkness Bellariese could just make out the twitching head of the dragon. She almost laughed with joy when the dragon spluttered a response back.

'What…' Ludo gasped, fighting to see through the gloom. 'What is this…? Sweet Merlin… Miss Gaunt is speaking parseltounge…!'

If Amoret had been sitting beside her, a whole translation would have been uttered from the girl's lips, but judging from Amaranth's calm voice, she was reassuring the creature, explaining her purpose. The huge beast hissed back, arguing its point, as Amaranth released his bonds. The creature stepped to the side, kneeling down to inspect it's eggs, nostrils flaring as it breathed deeply.

Amaranth stayed still, hand gripped tightly over her wand's hilt as the animal hissed loudly, realising there was a fake egg in its nest.

'I have no idea what Miss Gaunt is saying, but from the looks of things, the Vipertooth is inspecting her eggs…. Could this be the end for Clara Gaunt?'

The Vipertooth nudged the egg, rolling it forward so that it lay by Amaranth's feet. Carefully, with a gentle hiss, Amaranth bowed deeply, so that her nose almost touched the floor, before she scooped it up and hugged the golden egg against her breast.

The crowd went, sort of, nuts.

The Slytherins rose to their feet, capping and cheering as Dragon Keepers ran onto the scene, their wands extended as the bound the Vipertooth.

'AND SHE'S GOT IT! MISS GAUNT AS GOT HER EGG!' Ludo bellowed as the dragon roared.

Amaranth turned away, hiding her face against the flashing photographers. She began to make her way to Bellariese, egg in hand, but before she could jump over the arena wall, she pause looking back. The woman's eyes were tearful as she stared at the beautiful copper dragon, her hands tightening around the egg as it hissed for her, wailing in another tongue that was beautiful and deadly to Bellariese's ears.

'I am sorry,' Amaranth whispered, her voice barely audible above the yells of her old house. 'I am so sorry…'

'I did not think I could do that.' Bellariese breathed as she grabbed Amaranth's arm.

The woman nodded.

'Neither did I — it was a theory I had,' she gasped, shaking. 'I think authors are going to have to change textbooks now. Dragons _are_ related to basilisks!'

'Well, done, Miss Gaunt, very well done!' Ludo cried, sounding a little sullen, as if he wanted Amaranth to be eaten. 'Now, for the judges,'

Amaranth, who had climbed in beside Bellariese was now staring at the judges table, lips drawn into a thin look. Madam Maxine looked a little pale, while Karkaroff grinned maliciously. Dumbledore seemed to be rummaging around in his pocket, most likely searching for some unknown muggle sweetie. Crouch looked sickened by the entire event and his wand was twitching something fierce as he glared daggers at Amaranth, while Ludo looked slightly sick. The only person who seemed to be unimpressed, was Ignatius Prewett, who had taken up Bellariese's role of judge, when it became apparent that she would have given a bias result.

The Slytherins silenced as Madam Maxine held up her wand. A long silver ribbon shot out of her wand, curling itself into an eight. Amaranth smiled, as the Slytherins cheered.

'An eight,' Bellariese breathed, giving her sister-in-law's arm as shake. 'Well done,'

Amaranth rolled her eyes, leaning back in her seat.

'I would have preferred a nine,'

Crouch lifted his wand, and a number four sprung from the tip. The Slytherins, along with half the school, bellowed in outrage.

'SHE DID BETTER THAN THAT!' one of the Weasley Twins cried.

'YEAH!' the other bellowed. 'GIVE HER A SEVEN!'

'A seven,' Amaranth giggled, completely unchallenged by Crouch's bias approach. 'I thought I was at least a ten,'

Thankfully the next judge fixed Amaranth's wish, as Dumbledore raised his wand, a ten springing out in a cloud of sparks. A warm smile crossed Amaranth's lips, her "mask" shattering as Bellariese thumped her back.

'Yes!' the two witches cried, ignoring the stunned looks that came their way.

Next was Ludo, who probably out of fear of being murdered, also gave Amaranth a ten, which was soon replaced with a nine from Karkaroff.

'He always had a crush on me…even when he was a Death Eater…' Amaranth sighed as the students screamed and bellowed, their laughter apparent throughout the stadium. 'He is just wanting me to fuck him.'

She paused drawing a breath.

'Not that I ever would.'

Bellariese snorted, hiding her humour behind a well placed cough.

Ignatius, who was far to grand not to be noticed, raised his hand, and silence rippled across the stadium. It was almost scary, how Bellariese's uncle could control a room, and her heart leapt as he raised his wand. Amaranth's nails dug into Bellariese's wrist and she inched forward, eyes narrowed. Out of all the judges, Ignatius would most likely give Amaranth the most unbiased vote. Maxine and Ludo were both scared out of their wits; Karkaroff wanted to bang her; Crouch loathed her and Dumbledore taught her.

A black loom of smoke left Uncle Ignatius's wand, and as the student's held their breath, the smoke turned into a perfect zero. Amaranth's laugh rattled the silence, and startled students turned to stare, as the middle-aged witch cackled to herself. She rose, leaning across the wall to stare at Ignatius.

'Right! Good on you, Iggi!' she gasped, clutching her stomach. 'I guess I deserved that! I was not using my wand after all! Parseltounge comes from my blood!'

She laughed again, as Bellariese pulled her down.

'YOU HEAR THAT, RETTY?' Amaranth cawed to her daughter behind the tent. 'DO NOT USE OUR GIFT! YOU TOO POTTER!'

'Oh shut up,' Bellariese snapped, tapping her sister-in-law on the head, silencing the witch. 'Go stuff yourself with firewisky.'

The next few commentators blurred in comparison. Fleur spent most of the time trying to charm the dragon to sleep, which backfired. The arena was still smoking when she grabbed her egg, the smell of charred flash and skirt burning everyone's nostrils. She got a got twenty-eight points. Cedric was a bit more interesting. For the first half, his transfigured labrador ran around the arena, half distracting, half entertaining the Swedish Short Snout. It was only when Cedric made a mad dash for it, that the blue dragon suddenly turned, and shot a mountain-load of fire at the Hufflepuff. He managed to snatch up his egg before he was caught, although Bellariese realised that since he was covering his face, he must have been caught up in the blaze. He was taken away by Madam Pomfrey, who handed him a potion, while he also earned thirty-eight points to dull the pain.

Arcturus was next, and he ran around the arena like a bird, his black robes hiding his face as he disappeared completely, the spell, (Abdomihiet), rolling off his tongue. There was a marbled shock, as the dragon searched for him, her tail nocking over a few eggs so that they rolled down the hill. Arcturus then reappeared, mother's wand in hand, with the dragon's egg on his head. How he got it there, Bellariese didn't know, but she was more than a little but grateful when Arcturus disappeared again, the dragon's fiery temper rocking the arena as the Hebridean Black pounced around looking for the invisible boy. Is score was forty-four and a few broken bones for good measure. Next was Viktor and he shot a nasty spell straight in the Chinese Fireball's eyes, which as the dragon backed away, the witch realised must have been the Conjunctivitus Curse. Bellariese, along with half the stadium, winced as the dragon's feet crushed the eggs, the golden one rolling away as the red dragon screamed in pain at the loss of her species. He earned forty-seven points once he's managed to catch the egg, and a few terrified fans.

Harry flew — really flew. He summoned his boom, which looked a little odd compared to the others, before he jumped onto the flying broomstick with such speed, Bellariese thought he had learnt the flying charm. He dashed up and down, guiding the Hungarian Horntail up into the air, so that her chain broke. He zipped around her, his Seeker skills being put to the test as she snapped and bit at his broom. If it wasn't for his firebolt, the boy-who-lived would have surely died, and as he turned back, he swooped down, snatching the egg in his grasp. The stadium roared with delight, as he managed to gain forty-seven points and the internal respect of Ignatius Peverell.

As the crowd settled down, Bellariese leaned forward, nails tightly clutching her robes, as Amoret stuck her head out of the tent. Her long black hair was bound in a plait, and her green eyes skitted nervously around her arena as she looked up into the watching face of the dragon. Her hands drifted up to her tongue, as if stopping herself from speaking Parseltounge, although from the way Amaranth twitched, Bellariese decided that the Norwegian Ridgeback was taunting the young witch.

'Come on, Retty,' Bellariese breathed. 'Come on… Remember the spell,'

The young girl whimpered, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped forward and shot a stunner at the dragon. It bounced off the creature, smacking into a student, who fell forward, sprawling among his friends. There was faint gasp, when Amoret realised that she had done, before she scrambled to the right, avoiding the dragon's very fierce flames. The witch screamed, hiding her face as her wand whipped wildly, the tip shooting jinxes and cursed in every direction.

'And it looks like Miss Black is in a spot of trouble,' Ludo was saying. 'Will she be able to keep her head?'

Bellariese and Amaranth ducked as the spells shot towards them. They smashed into a few other students, which resulted with several tentacles growing out of someone's face, as another jumped around like a chicken. What was Amoret thinking?

'Idiot!' Amaranth gasped as the girl rose to her feet. 'Use your head, girl!'

'Miss Black'll get points of for that, I'm afraid!' Ludo roared, not sounding sad at all.

Amoret lifted her wand, and before anyone could breathe, she had muttered a spell, and tapped the bace of her skull. Then something weird happened. Amoret shuddered, her body convulsing as the Geminio Curse worked its magic. She stretched, her body twisting awfully as her skin separated, pulling apart as another her dropped by her side.

The two Amorets looked at each other, the clone, and the real girl, staring in awe. The dragon must have thought so too, because the Norwegian Ridgeback's eyes were bulging.

'What is this?' Ludo gasped. 'Some new spell, like Mr Black? Dear me…'

Turning, the Amorets smiled, before they kicked hips and a second later, two more Amorets appeared from the beyond. They kept doing this until sixteen Amorets surrounded the dragon, their wands all pointing at the beast.

'STUPEFY!' in one sold cry, all sixteen Amorets cried out, and an explosion of red light filled the arena.

The dragon called out, bellowing something fierce as it stumbled forward, and as it approached the judges, one of the Amorets, which Bellariese took to be her real niece, charged forward. She scooped up an egg, and pulling it close against her body. The crowd roared, Bellariese and Amaranth being two of the loudest, as the girl smiled wildly.

'AND SHE'S GOT HER EGG! WELL, DONE! WELL, DONE!' Ludo roared. 'Now, Madam Maxine, what will you give our champion?'

However, as Amoret walked to the side of the arena, hoping to jump up to greet her aunt and mother, something changed in the way the dragon was moving. It stopped tottering around like a drunken house-elf and fixed it's eyes on Amoret. Bellariese's blood paled, and before anyone could really stop her, the daughter of Orion Black had leapt over the wall, and snatched her nice up against her breast.

Beneath her, Amoret screamed, as the dragon roared. The witch's arms tightened around her aunt's waist as she pulled her underneath, back turned to the screeching Ridgeback. The golden egg glistened in her grip, singing darkly in the dragon's eye. A loud yell filled the air, as Arcturus rushed out of the tent, his yells echoing loudly around the enclosure as Amaranth dropped down, holding him back. But Charlie was too far away, distracted momentarily by another dragon, that by the time he looked up, it was too late.

A plume of fire erupted from the Ridgeback's mouth, spiralling and twisting dangerously in the air. Amoret squeezed her aunt tight, tears rolling down her cheeks as Amaranth's screams joined Arcturus' own. The girl's wand was halfway across the arena, lost under a mountain of rock and land. Bellariese shut her eyes tight, bracing herself for the flames.

But there was no blistering heat along her back, no scream of pain from either Bellariese or terrifying death. Breathing heavily, Bellariese turned her gaze on the Norwegian Ridgeback, and what she saw made her heart stop.

He stood above her, dragon-hide robes flickering in the breeze, as his long, long, long red hair fell in a thick ponytail. Her face paled, as the wand, which she had snatched so often as a teen, glowed an even stronger blue, feeding glistening wall of magic that kept the fire away.

Amoret laughed, her fear turning to joy as the man turned to face them.

He was still as beautiful as the day Bellariese had met him. Prewett cheekbones twisted with the red Weasley hair and the blue eyes that shone out of his face like glowing sapphires almost made the witch smile. His face was set in a grim expression which looked odd against his kindly features and the Curse Breaking tattoos that lined his hands and arms were glowing a bright white. It would be much later, under the cover of darkness, that Bellariese would realise that at that moment, her own tattoos were glowing, the blood runes and lost translations of viking script dancing up and along her palms and neck. Her face was bathed in a deep grey, her magical allegiance spreading across the arena for all to see.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bellariese could see Charlie rushing forward, his voice rising and falling across the arena as he called to his fellow Dragon Keepers, demanding that they catch the dragon. A thin, but furious expression sat on the dragon scaly face, as if offended that a human had stopped him charing his prey. A loud shriek left Charlie lips as thick ropes exploded out of the Dragon Keeper's wands, tying the dragon to the cold ground. The beast's tail swung around, narrowly avoiding the dragon eggs as fire exploded form his lips.

'William,' Bellariese breathed, as the shield glittered fiercely.

Amoret ran out from under her, sprinting towards the stands. The girl ran into her mother's arms, knocking the ex-Death Eater over as Amaranth Peverell hugged her child tightly against her bony body. Arcturus threw his arms around her, pulling her close against him, their golden eggs flashing in the cold light.

A thin smile rose to Bill's lips as he stepped forward, hand latching tightly around Bellariese's arm as he pulled the witch to her feet. She stumbled forward, ankle twisting as he caught her. Standing at six foot four, Bill Weasley was the tallest person Bellariese knew and as he steadied her, tattoos shining bright, she realised that, with a sickening jolt, that he had hardly changed in the past five years.

'Hello Ree,'


	7. The Trickster's Children and the Egg of Screams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Athelisia: Athel-lisa**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Rán: Ran**

**Sòl: Sole**

**Tor: "Thor" without the "TH" sound.**

**Percival: Per-civil**

**Heimdallr: Heim-dall-rr**

**Morgana: more-gan-a**

**Morgan: more-gan**

**Uther: OO-th -er**

**Merlin: Mer-lin**

**Antioch: An-ti-och**

**_Hel: "Hell" but with only one l_ **

**_Fenrir: Fen-rir_ **

**_Jörmungandr: y-oo-r-m-uh-n-g-uh-n-d-ah-r_ **

**_Nari: NAA-Riy_ **

**_Váli: v-aa-l-ee_ **

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

**Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**The Trickster's Children and the Egg of Screams**

**_21st of December 1209_ **

_Pale screams ripped from the woman's throat, her grey eyes vacant and misty as the children were expelled from her body. Healers in black robes surrounded her bedside, while a High Priestess flitted around the room, hands filled with burning thyme. The room stank of blood, sweat and shit, which only contributed to the woman's wailing, and as her screams grew louder, the pigs and cows who were tied up on the other side of the room, began to stir, their feet stamping loudly with each cry._

_In the darkness of the woman's mind, she saw her children flailing in a Healer's arms, the red haired babe screaming for all it's worth, while the black haired one was strangely quiet. They were both bloody, and hungry, a combination the woman had never really enjoyed, and as she lay on her straw bed, panting softly, body shaking, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Twitching, the woman turned, heart racing, as her clouded eyes tried to stare up at the man who sat beside her._

_He had been there the entire time, his shoulder-length, sun-kissed hair, reminding the woman of a summer's day, that for a brief second she wondered where she had seen him. He was tall, overshadowing her by at least a few inches, and he wore the strangest of clothes. They were dark and pretty, and yet, at the same time, flexible, and battle-worthy, a sort of thing an assassin might have worn — that is, if the assassin was a King. The man had the same face as her lover, or rather, they two men shared the same etherial glow and scar across their hand. As the woman stared into his blue eyes, she noticed the wall of magic that surrounded him, the crackle of lightning that ran down his arms._

_'_ _Madam Black,' the man replied, eyes dark and heavy. 'You have a son and a daughter — twins,'_

_The woman's heart dropped, her eyes closing as the vision left her mind. She felt the Healer place one of the children onto her chest, and the strange feeling that plunged in her heart as the child lay against her. The girl whimpered, the cold air drifting through the icy room, and quickly the woman covered his naked body with her arms, her fingers launching tightly around her daughter's body._

_'_ _What will you name them?' the man asked, leaning back in his chair, as the girl was handed to him. The Original shrugged, hand reaching across to the child to gently stroke the tuffs of hair that spread across her child's head. It was red, the child's face decorated with a fiery tinge of frizzy locks; a dangerous colour._

_'_ _Rán,' The Original breathed, covering her babe with ebony locks. 'I name her Rán.'_

_The man nodded, and rose to his feet, his hands flickering with unseen magic._

_'_ _Rán — after the Goddess of the Sea — a fitting name, considering she has blue eyes,' the man smirked. 'The Goddess will be honoured. And the boy?'_

_'_ _Sól' the witch smiled. 'I name him Sól.'_

_'_ _The Sun and the Drowner,' the man said, eyebrows raised. 'Interesting names for two children. Are you sure you want something so ancient?'_

_The Original nodded._

_'_ _Yes,' she said, smiling thinly, 'these are the names they will receive. What do you think Athelisa? Are they perfect?'_

_Turning, the Seer looked towards her friend. Although Athelisa Peverell was a thin, small woman, not many realised she was pregnant. Dressed in a wooden dress, the woman of eighteen sat by the fire, her hands skilfully spinning a drop-spindle as she tended the flames, her swollen stomach covered by a thick blanket. As she leaned forward to throw another log on the fire, a thin silver cross gleamed, throwing up speckles of white light throughout the smokey room._

_'_ _The names are strong,' Athelisa looked up, and tucked a strand of blonde hair out of her face. 'They will honour the legacy of Morgana, however, they are a bit…well…unusual,'_

_The Seer frowned, her lips thinning._

_'_ _You're just saying that because your pregnant,' she breathed, struggling to hold both of her children. 'What are you going to name that child then? Percival?'_

_The Christian shook her head, a warm smile on her lips as she stared into the fire._

_'_ _If it's a girl, I will name it Morgan - after your mother… and if it's a boy,' she laughed, as if the idea was the funniest thing in the world. 'If it's a boy… I will name him Antioch, after my father,'_

_The Original laughed, her hands growing limp as exhaustion took over, but before she could slip into sleep, the door blew open, and a tall man, with thinning grey hair, and a long staff walked into the room. His clothes were wet, the smell of rain and mildew rippling off him, as he walked into the smoke-smelling room. His golden eyes flickered around the room, before landing on the man, and they suddenly narrowed._

_'_ _Lord Tor!' the man cried, catching his breath. 'Your father has sent for you. He wishes for your attendance at this year's Yule celebrations,'_

_Tor rose, lips thinning. He looked in Athelisa's direction, who had closed her eyes, and was snoring softly, hands pressed tightly against her stomach. Slowly, Tor turned to face the Original, eyes narrowed._

_'_ _Sleep well, granddaughter of Uther Pendragon. You will need your strength,' he paused, as if choosing his words, before continuing. His eyes were darker, crueler, and for the first tine, the Original saw just how big he really was. His shoulders barely fit in-between the doorway, and his head clipped the roof, and somewhere in the back of her mind, a flicker of fear rose. 'The Merlin watches, and you must keep those children safe.'_

_'_ _But Merlin is a tree…' the Original breathed, as Tor leant down to pick up his belongings. 'He died years ago,'_

_Tor looked at her, hand tightening around his bag, and the hammer which had been resting beside it. He pointed it at her, a hum of electricity thrumming thought the air that made the Seer's heart almost stop._

_'_ _You of all people know not to trust stories.' Tor growled, his grip on the hammer strengthening. 'The Prince of the Enchanters will return again, and when he does, he will bring forth the greatest darkness this world has ever known.'_

_'_ _Lord Tor!'_

_It was the man again, and this time he was looking at a strange contraption, his patients running thin. It seemed to be some type of time-keeper, and judging from the paranoid gaze that lingers in his eyes, he and Tor were running late._

_'_ _I'm coming Heimdallr. I won't be a minute.' Tor grunted, raising his hand to his friend. He turned back to the Original. 'Keep by blood-brother's children safe, Ella. But I urge you to keep your visions secret. They will be dangerous in the years to come.'_

_He paused, looking her in the eye._

_'_ _My brother's children have never lived in freedom for very long. Hel, Fenrir and Jörmungandr were cast into their own prisons, while Nari was ripped to pieces by his brother, Váli,' He looked away, tears glittering in his eyes. 'Even my own children were persecuted, although not to the same extent. But still… I doubt they will ever forgive me.'_

_He nodded, bowing low to the Original, long hair falling over his face._

_'_ _I hail you, Madam Black,' he said. 'I hail you to the stars and back.'_

_Smiling, the Original nodded back._

_'_ _Keep safe, Tor,' she breathed, 'and goodbye.'_

_Rising, Tor hurried towards the door, but before Heimdallr could grab him, and disappear, the man turned back, to look at the witch for one last time._

_'_ _Remember, Bellariese Black, that whatever fate those children have, it will be up to you to protect them,' the man breathed, eyes flickering in the cold air. 'The All Father's wrath is strong, and just because you are mortal, doesn't mean he won't enact it.'_

_With that, the Lord of Thunder, and the Keeper of the Doomsday, disappeared in a flash of multicoloured light, and rainbows._

* * *

**25th of November 1994**

The eggs sat in a semi-circle on the table, their golden shells reflecting the amber light of Bellariese's cigarette as she stared at the globed treasures. Beside her, looking exhausted, was Tonks, her bright hair faded to a deep blue as she struggled to stay conscious, a pair of spectacles falling off the edge of her nose. Her robes were rumpled, and a book lay on her lap, her finger lazily tracing the title's faded outline, that as Bellariese blew a grey ring of smoke across the table, the Auror glanced up at her, patience spent.

'All right,' Tonks breathed, slamming her hands on the table, causing a thin rumble to echo from the wood and a few elderly witches and wizards to stare. 'Tell me what's wrong or by Poseidon's Teeth, I will stick your head underwater?'

For the past five hours, the two witches had lain around the Hog's Head, their heads pressed to their knees as they tried to figure out the cause behind the screaming eggs. It had been Amoret who had discovered it, when she had stupidly decided to open her damn prize in the middle of the night. That little tingle of curiosity had led to several dark curses erupting from Amaranth's wand, and a mouthful of colourful phrases exploding from Bellariese's lips, before the two realised that Arcturus had been knocked out by a stray nose-bleeding curse, and Amoret was desperately trying to close the egg. After what felt like an age of fumbling, the three witches finally managed to figure out how to stop the banshee-like-cry, however, not before half of Slytherin House had managed to enter the underground apartment. It was safe to say that Professor Snape had not been all that happy — not at all.

Bellariese looked at her cousin, her eyes narrowing as she pressed the cigarette back into her mouth. Bags surrounded her dark eyes making her look even more like her deranged cousin, and her long dark hair fell around her thin face. Her clothes weren't much better either, as she had grabbed the first thing out of her suitcase the second Amaranth had dragged her out of bed. She wore a mishmash of styles, both Magical and Muggle and it wasn't until she was sitting at breakfast, trying to eat her porridge, that she realised she had managed to find one of Sirius' old, (and extremely tatty) teenage shirts. It was baggy, and slipped off her shoulders as she ate, red and grey checkers a stark contrast against her pale skin. Although on the surface Bellariese Black loathed her brother, cursing his every move for leaving her, she still was a little grateful that he'd left a few of his old clothes behind — it was, after all, the only way she could ever remember him — the real him.

'What do you mean?' Bellariese asked, leaning her chin on her elbow. 'I am fine.'

Tonks' eyes narrowed.

'Your fine?' Tonks breathed, leaning back in her chair. 'Your fine, huh? So then tell please tell me why you've been staring at the bloody door for the past fifty minuets.'

Bellariese frowned.

'I have not!'

'You so have!' Tonks grinned, leaning forward, a wicked grin on her lips. 'So, tell me, who is it?'

'Who is what?' Bellariese breathed, rubbing her eyes, and yawning.

'Who's the guy?'

'Who says it is a man?'

'Oh, come on, Reece, even I know that the rumour about you and Opsia Flint was a lie,'

Bellariese raised her eyebrows.

'Who the fuck started that one?' she breathed, blinking owlishly. 'I mean I have heard most of them, but seriously, that one?'

She snorted.

'People really have to start getting better at creating lies, if they want people to believe such things.'

'Many did,' Tonks breathes, eyebrows raised. 'So, are you going to tell me.'

Bellariese's eyes narrowed to thin slits.

'Fine,' Tonks snapped, standing up. 'Don't tell me - I'm going to get a firewhisky.'

And before Bellariese could stop her, or warn her, Tonks had flitted over to the bar, and was ordering a glass.

'That girl,' a voice suddenly said, and Bellariese turned, eyebrows raised as Igor Karkaroff sat down, resting his long staff on the table, 'she reminds me of a student that I once taught - Katarina Vasilieva-Skarsgård…. Nasty girl; too wild!'

'Why are you here?' Bellariese asked, eyes narrowed. The Headmaster of Durmstrang raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes glittering with an ugly humour.

'I knew your brother…' he mused. 'Well, technically I knew both of them. Of course, I talked to Regulus when he was a Death Eater, and to Sirius in Azkaban. Did you know Sirius was my cellmate for a few weeks? He told me a very interesting piece of information before I was released… That you, Bellariese Walburga Black, were a Seer,'

Ice tingled up the witch's spine, her hands shaking as her nails dug into her palms.

'Is that true?'

'Of course not.' Bellariese lied, a cool expression dancing across her face like a veil. 'Why would something like that be true? After all, there is not such thing as a Seer.'

Karkaroff grunted, his eyebrows raised. He raised his hand, and a barmaid approached.

'A glass of goblin-wine please,' he instructed, jewelled hand glittering in the cold light, 'and a brandy for the lady,'

Bellariese raised her eyebrow, lips drawn.

'You did not need to too that,' she said, as the maid brought over their drinks and Karkaroff paid. 'I could have done that myself.'

The Headmaster of Durmstrang smile, a thin, creep grin spreading across his bearded face.

'My dear,' he said. 'I fear we have gotten of on the wrong foot. Lets start over. My name is Igor Karkaroff, and you are?'

'Earl Black,' Bellariese said stubbornly, taking a sip of her brandy. The cool liquid burnt her tongue, and she struggled not to gag. Why had she drunk it?

'That's it?' Karkaroff asked. 'No introductions other then titles.'

'Fine,' Bellariese said, leaning back on her chair. 'I am Bellariese Black III — Are you happy?'

She raised her eyebrows.

Karkaroff smiled.

'Immensely.'

Politics had never really been Bellariese strong point, and while she tried to understand it, that ambiguous forte had gone to Sirius. Even with his Gryfindor flaws, Bellariese's elder brother had an eerie knack for it, which was why, even with a glass of brandy, and the ceiling above, Bellariese was struggling not to yawn as Karkaroff droned on and on. She suspected that his mission was to bore her to tears, and she was just about to fall asleep, when he said,

'I heard that your cousin might inherit the Black Fortune — or at least, that is what the Daily Prophet said when it became apparent that you were going to be disowned and deemed a Blood-Traitor.'

Bellariese's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back, suddenly looking like a hawk.

'I can assure you, Headmaster,' Bellariese replied. 'That I am not disowned — nor am I a Blood-Traitor.'

'Are you sure,'

Bellarise nodded.

'Only I can disown myself,' she said, rising to her feet. 'And I can safely say, that will never happen. Good day,'

With that, Bellariese stalked towards the door, anger rising. How dare he! How he dare!

'They say you're her daughter!' Karkaroff cawed, as Bellariese hand hovered above the Hog's Head's door handle. 'Is it true?'

Turning, the Earl of Black fixed her eyes on the man who had once killed — a man which, had seen the darkness Regulus had endured. For a brief second, a faint smile licked across the woman's lips, before it was wiped off, replaced with a look of cool confidence.

'So what if I am?' she breathed. 'Walburga Black may have given birth to me, but I can assure you Headmaster, that it was not her who raised me. So go on then, spread the rumour — tell people that my mother was Bellatrix Black….'

She grinned, tilting her head.

'After all…you have her to thank for my life.' she said, and with that, the Earl of Black opened the door, and stepped out into the snow.

White flecks decorated the cold air as the wind blew down Hogsmeade's winding roads, that as Bellariese walked back up the castle, her cloak flying everywhere, she was suddenly conscious of a gaggle of girl who surrounded a bench.

Judging from their made-up faces and the shrill laughter that surrounded them, Bellariese guessed Viktor Krum sat in the middle of them, and as she approached, she noticed his sour face. Ever so often he tired to move away but before he could stand, or push a girl aside, another witch had grabbed his arm, her eyelids batting. Seeing no other option, (and considering that they were in her way), Bellariese approached.

'Excuse me,' she snarled, causing the teenage girls to freeze, fear running up their backs as she stood behind them. 'You are in the way, and unless you wish to find yourselves hanging by your fingertips, I suggest that you move on,'

For a short while, the girls stared at Bellariese, before the youngest hurried away, her gaggle of friends running behind her. Viktor sighed, his eyes closing as they went around a corner.

'Thank you,' he said, looking up at Bellariese. 'I'd thought they voud never leave.'

Bellariese raised an eyebrow.

'That tough, huh?' she asked.

Looking up at her, the Seeker nodded.

'People vant leave me alone,' Krum grumbled. 'I can barely sleep.'

'That bad?' Bellariese asked. 'Just tell them to fuck off — it worked for me.'

'For vat reason vould you be followed for?' Krum asked, eyebrow raised. 'You are just a vitch.'

'Ah but my brothers were the Dark Lord's right hand men — or at least, Reg was. Sirius escaped from Azkaban and Regulus drowned — not the best way for their younger sister to be recognised.' Bellariese said as she sat on the bench, stretching her legs as the Seeker looked a little uncomfortable. 'I just had a conversation with your Headmaster — he mentioned an old student of his. Katarina Vasilieva-Skarsgård; did you know her?'

Krum shrugged.

'She vas a few years up from me, I think,' he said. 'I never really knew her. I know she vas build though,'

Bellariese nodded, exempting her his answer, before moving on.

'Figured out the Second Task yet?'

'Prehapse.' Viktor said, pulling his coat further around him, trying to block out the stares. 'But vat am I going to get if I tell you?'

'I did just save you from your fan-girls,' Bellariese pointed out. 'I think it is only your duty to pay me back,'

Vitkor sighed.

'Vater,' the Quidditch Player eventually said. 'Vater is the key,'

Bellariese smiled.

'Thank you, Viktor — I suspect this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship. I will not forget it.'

Viktor Krum nodded, rising to his feet as the Hog's Head's door buried open, and a slightly tipsy Tonks was thrown up. She turned around, hair flaming as she swore in garbled Fairy, and before she could really change her mind, gave Aberforth Dumbledore the finger, and walked away. She grinned when she spotted Bellariese and Krum, appearing by their sides before they could even breathe.

'Guess what I just saw,' the witch cried, stumbling, breath smelling strongly of alcohol. 'Aberforth's goat was chasing Karkaroff around the room,'

She laughed, before lifting up her bag.

'You left the eggs, had to pull them away from Mundungus Fletcher before he could nick them. Oh, hello, fancy seeing you here.'

Apparently, Viktor had just appeared on her radar.

'Hallo,' Viktor said. 'I'm Viktor Krum,'

'Tonks,' Tonks said, nodding sharply at him, before spinning to Bellariese. She dumped her bag in her cousin's arms. 'Hold this.'

As the three walked back up to the castle, Tonks asked Viktor various questions, about anything and everything that wasn't Quidditch. To her surprise, Bellariese was quiet taken aback to find that Viktor had an elder brother named Emil and a younger sister, who was called Rabil. Not much was known about the Krum family, and while Bellariese suspected it was nice for Viktor to have breather for a little bit, she wasn't sure if talking to Nymphadora Tonks was really the breather he was asking for. His eyes constantly seemed to search for someone else, his questions never really reaching more then a couple of sentences.

'And then there was the time, Reece tried to hang Emerald Green by her toes because she had dared to call Amoret a danger to society. I was in my third year, and it was hilarious,' Tonks grinned heels swinging.

Bellariese sighed, and quickly wrapped her arm around her drunk friend, catching her before she could walk into a tree.

'Listen here, Nymphadora,' Bellariese said, ignoring the usual, "don't call me that" form Tonks. 'I think Mr Krum, is looking for a friend of his, and it would be very helpful if you shut up and let him find them,'

Tonks scowled, her eyebrows narrowing as she looked at her.

'You're a bitch,' she finally said. 'You know that.'

'Oh, cousin,' Bellariese said, as Krum said his goodbyes. 'Don't I know it.'

As the sun settled over Hogsmeade, and as students were making their way back to Hogwarts, Bellariese and Tonks stopped at the gate improving the Shrieking Shack. The building was tall and crooked, the tales of ghosts keeping anything and anyone away. Having grown up with Sirius, Bellariese now all to well that the rumours behind that particular tale were false, and as she sat down, breathing in the cold air, watching Tonks spin around and around, she suddenly wondered what Remus Lupin was doing.

Truthfully she hadn't seen the werewolf since she was nine, when she had accidentally crashed into him in a bookshop in Knockturn Alley. At the time, she had loathed him, blaming him for her brother's incarceration, but as the years passed, and her visions grew, Bellariese learned to petty the man, and the purposed future that he might have. If she played her cards right, something good might happen to the man, however, meddling with her own visions was dangerous, a task Bellariese knew all to well.

'Do you think we can help Amoret and the others tonight,' Tonks asked as she collapsed beside Bellariese, breath curdling in the night air. 'They're all awfully sacred.'

'I think Amaranth's more morbidly fascinated by the whole thing,' Bellariese admired, eyes staring out at Hogwarts, and toward the Black Lake.

Suddenly, an idea pricked in her head, and she turned towards Tonks, suddenly understanding Krum's words.

'You know how you were saying earlier about sticking my head underwater,'

The witch smirked.

'Yeah,' Tonks said.

Bellariese grinned.

'Well…I've just had an idea…'

Tonks' grin widened.

'So does that mean I get to throw you into the Black Lake again?'

The Auror laughed, dogging her cousin's fist, as Bellariese's eyes burned with a wild, dark fury. 

* * *


	8. The Unspeakable and the Magizoologist

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Names that are not in the books (or if they are they are not well known — first names only):**

**Terrin: TEHR-IHN**

**Alaric: aa, l aa r ee k**

**Serafina: Serr-uh-fee-na**

**James: j AI m z**

**Magdala: M AE G Dolla**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

**Augustus: uh - g UH s - t uh s**

**Antioch: An-ti-och**

**Athelisia: Athel-lisa**

**John: Jaw-hn**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**William: w IH l - y uh m**

**Bill: b IH l**

**Severus: s EH - v er - uh s**

**Katarina: k ah t ah - r IH n ah**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**The Unspeakable and the Magizoologist**

**_5th of March, 1969_ **

_The Prophecy glowed against the Unspeakable's hand, it's shining light turning his nails a ghostly blue. He hadn't supposed to pick it up, in fact, until his hand landed around the sphered ball, he had thought his life to be perfectly safe._

_While it was true his wife had a somewhat disturbing history, he was able to look past that, simply because his love for her over-shone his doubts; however, when the Prophecy fell, when the Unspeakable caught it in a callused hand, his heart stopped. He shouldn't have been able to hold it; it was impossible. His stomach rolled as the mist cleared, and a craggy voice echoed numbly in his mind, the words of Cassandra Trelawney strong in his thoughts._

**_A child of Death shall walk the earth, lost, alone and afraid…. They'll talk and speak with split words and lost tongues, forever doubting their ways…. Through errors and mistakes, they will live their life, until their memories betray them, and they hang on the bite…._ **

_He pulled away, setting the Prophecy down, resting the glass orb on its stand, and with a thin lipped expression, stepped back. An ugly sense of realisation pierced his mind as he realised that the Prophecy was talking about someone in the Peverell Line. A faint whispering sound tugged at his ear, the voices of a thousand Seers trickling into his mind as the Prophecy's words quietened and he was left to stand in a corridor of glass balls._

_'_ _Peverell!' someone called, and the Unspeakable turned, heart pounding as he turned to face Alaric White._

_Having grown up with the man, Terrin Peverell was a little bit surprised when he first discovered that the Gryffindor had chosen to become an Unspeakable, as it was a well known fact that, when he was a teen, had been the loudest, loudmouth Hogwarts had ever seen. Now, over twenty years later, White was dressed respectably in a dark auburn robe, his white-red hair slicked back — to Terrin he looked a little bit like a phoenix. Green eyes glittered behind a pair of spectacles and as he strode towards Terrin, the descendent of Antioch Peverell raised his wand._

_Unlike his fellow Unspeakable, Terrin Peverell's hair was black as pitch, his eyes a deep, dark, ugly brown, that if it wasn't for his tanned skin, and heavy eyebrows, he might have been dead. He was taller then White, and rose above the ground in thick, heavy robes and a cruel expression. His wand twitched._

_'_ _What are you doing here, White?' Terrin asked, lips thin as the Time-Unspeakable stopped before him._

_White raised his eyebrows._

_'_ _I might ask you the same question?' White said, 'Are you not supposed to be in the Death Chamber? That Death Spiral won't get finished without you there,'_

 _'_ _I was on my way, but I got a little lost — the doors threw me…'_

 _'_ _Ah, yes, the infamous Entrance Chamber,' White said as he and Terrin began to walk down the hall. 'Such an interesting thing, especially when it decides to play tricks.'_

_White raised his eyebrow, and Terrin swallowed hard. He knew something was up._

_'_ _How is your wife?' Terrin asked, hoping to change the subject._

_White raised his eyebrows, lips thin._

_'_ _Serafina is…not doing too well to be honest. James keeps her company of course but there's only so much a nine year old can do… but after Magdala's death, she has become rather distant…'_

 _'_ _But the Smith murders were almost fourteen years ago, hasn't she recovered by now?'_

_Terrin nodded, face grim._

_'_ _But you remember our group — Mads, Sera and I were always running around with…' he paused, brow tightening as he thought._

_Shaking his head, the dark look which had clouded his mind faded and White smiled._

_'_ _Never mind that — how is your daughter, I hear it is her birthday soon.'_

_Terrin nodded._

_'_ _Amoret and I discussed buying a broom, but truthfully, I think a cauldron would suffice - Amaranth does seem to like her potions.'_

_They had reached the door now, the handle glittering in the cold gloom._

_'_ _I guess this is were we part,' the elder man said, as he stepped away from Terrin, 'I will send you an Owl, maybe I can persuade Euphemia to introduce James to your daughter — you never know, they might become friends.'_

_Terrin laughed._

_'_ _We'll see,' he said. 'But I will warn you now, my daughter is very much a Slytherin. Do you think your nephew will be able to cope?'_

_White smiled, shaking his head._

_'_ _Perhaps, but remember, Peverell, we are all Gryffindors for a reason — we can't help but be recklessly brave,' he paused, smiling. 'So long.'_

_With a flick of his wand, the Gryffindor opened the door, stepping through, and into the Entrance Chamber. He smiled weekly at Terrin, nodding softy, before closing the door behind him. The Unspeakable sighed, resting his head on the door as the Entrance Chamber churned and worried like a muggle-revolving door. He heard White call out, ("The Time Room"), and a second later Terrin heard the chug and slug of the doors opening and the Gryffindor leaving._

_Once he was sure that Alaric White had left, Terrin stepped into the Entrance Chamber. As soon as he had closed the door, the world around him began to spin, his sight blurring faster and faster and faster until he wanted to be sick. Just before he could be, however, the Death-Unspeakable raised his head, and in a loud voice, cried,_

_'_ _The Death Chamber!'_

_The door opened, and after making sure that he wasn't about to be thrown again, Terrin strode forward, and into the Chamber of Death. While he was never sure if the "Death Chamber" was named after the god, Terrin would bet his life that there was some connection to him, if only he could prove it._

_The Arch rose out of the ground, the black rock perfectly placed in an empty doorway, as if waiting for someone to walk through. But having learnt from the incident in eighteen-fifty one, when a lost Unspeakable had wondered through, the Veil was left untouched. However that still didn't mean that the Unspeakables could study it._

_It was as Terrin was closing the door, that he noticed the man standing right up against the Veil, and his heart froze when he realised that the man was almost a finger-tip away. One good push, was all he needed to die. Terrin's thoughts paused, as he rushed forward — maybe that wouldn't be so bad?_

_The man who stood by the Veil was young, maybe in his early twenties, and as Terrin approached, he jumped back, suddenly fearful of the infamous man. Augustus Rookwood wouldn't have been Terrin's first choice as an Unspeakable, for the man was constantly nervous — constantly watching. While it was true that to work the Department of Death, you needed some sort of ability to watch, it wasn't the kind of inspecting that Terrin was used to. The tall man seemed to be spying on Terrin, in a way that really unnerved the elder man, and as the descendent of Antioch Peverell stopped beside his apprentice, he wondered how long he had been watching the Veil._

_'_ _Rookwood,' Terrin said, and the man jumped. 'What are you doing here? I told you yesterday that I wanted you to work in the Time-Chamber. Isn't Unspeakable Hatter waiting for you?'_

_Rookwood shrugged, lips tightening as he walked away from the Veil, shoulder's brushing up against Terrin's as he passed._

_'_ _I'm sorry, sir,' the apprentice breathed, nodding at Terrin as hurried towards the door. 'I got lost.'_

_Terrin turned, arms crossed. A thin expression clouded this face, his eyes narrowing as Rookwood put his hand on the door._

_'_ _Was it the doors?' he asked, causing the young man to pause._

_For a short while, Rookwood said nothing, as if he were contemplating what to say, but finally, after what seemed like an age, he nodded._

_'_ _Yes,' he said, voice vibrating as he opened the door. 'Yes, that was it,'_

_Terrin raised his eyebrow as the boy left, the door shutting with a sound bang. He didn't trust Rookwood, not at all. He would rather take on Lord Voldemort again, then see that boy ever again. He shuddered, turning away from the Veil._

_In his anger, he and forgotten to block out the Veil's whisperings, the wonders voice that begged him to slip thought the curtained door. He licked his lips, hand resting on his wand, as he thought of the tales his mother had told him, and the ancestry he supposedly shared._

_While known as storytellers, the Grimms of the Wizarding World, the Peverell Brothers were known for creating the story of "the Deathly Hallows." But while the rest of his Hogwartian Peers had grown up with the tale of three grown men outwitting Death, and slowly dying one by one, Terrin had learnt of a different tale._

_Dark was the age when the children of Athelisia were born, and even darker still, was the King who hunted them. Although known in the Muggle-World as the man who rolled a little to carelessly, John the First, the man who signed the Magna Carta, in twelve-fifteen, was absolutely brutal to Wizarding History. Tales of Witch-Hunts, and hanging ran far in the King's Wizarding connection, and while the Peverell Brothers had excepted Lord Death's gifts, it was not for the reasons Beedle the Bard told._

_First off, according to his mother, the Peverell Brothers, were not adults, as Beedle's tale told, but rather, they were three terrified boys, running from a mad king who had killed their mother. They, along with three others, had stumbled across Lord Death. The most surprising thing, was that Death was their father. A Greek God with enough power to kill the King. But even though he had that power, he could not directly interfere with mortal affairs, and so the keep his children safe, Death blessed them with their gifts. Necromancy bloomed amount the three Peverells, changing their ways, and in turn, the three created the Deathly Hallowed._

_That very same necromancy called to Terrin now, his command over his ancestor's power strong in the air. The Unspeakable sighed, walking away from the Veil as he tuned to the Death Spiral. Having conducted the idea when he was just a boy, Terrin knew from the moment his mother had explained his ancestry, that he wanted to outdo Death, to prove to him that he could be conquered. That he, a descendant of the eldest brother, the creator of the Elder Wand, could become Death's Master._

_It was this deriving force that had eventually led Terrin to create the Death Spiral, and although he still didn't exactly know how to make it, he had a funny feeling that the invention might be able to revers an Inferi. The idea, while incredibly ludicrous, and extremely difficult to prove, as no body in their right minds would create and Inferi, was certainly an intriguing one._

_Sighing deeply, the Unspeakable crouched down, tapping the Death Spiral with his wand, igniting the black flame that flickered in's empty shell and began to work. The Death Spiral, wasn't really a spiral, and was more like a box, but having told his wife what the device was hopefully able to do, Amoret Gaunt had announced, quite suddenly, that it was more like a spiral then a box, simply because it could turn an Inferi back into a human. While a little confused in the beginning, the invention's name had stuck, and after several long years, had ingrained itself in Terrin's mind completely._

_He worked and tinkered long into the night, black wisps of magic curling off his fingers as he studied the box, and it was only when the flickering torches that hung around the Death Room's interior, faded, that Terrin realised what time it was. After checking his watch, and ignoring the Veil's call one last time, the Unspeakable gathered his things and left._

_It didn't take him long to leave the Ministry of Magic, for he knew the place like the back of his hand, and it wasn't until he was walking down his street, wondering what his wife had made for dinner, that he realised he was being followed. Having been trained from a young boy to fight for things that were important for him, Terrin glanced behind him, wand sparking brightly in the cold darkness._

_Nothing…_

_The man's black eyes narrowed, and after a moment's hesitation, carried on. He reached his home soon after that, the white town house rising out of the ground like a marbled cliff, it's impressive windows and purple painted door, a remedied to the outside world that a wizarding family lived there. With it's immaculately polished steps, and golden knocker, it didn't take a genius to work out that the Peverell family were well off._

_As Terrin Peverell entered his house, his eyes imminently drawn to his wife's loving stare and his child's intuitive smile, he never noticed the man who lurked in the garden, nor the green-glowing wand that would very soon end his life, allowing not only the Prophecy to begin, and end in that very moment, but for his child to die along with him._

* * *

**29th of November, 1994**

The Black Lake wasn't the best place to go swimming — especially since the Slytherin Common Rooms over looked the underwater caverns. Arcturus stood by the waters edge, thin body shivering in the cold light as he stared at his aunt and cousin. Bellariese, who had all ready waded into the water, indicated to her nephew, one of the golden eggs resting in her grip. Amaranth and Amoret bobbed beside her, their own eggs clutched in their hands, as they figured out if Bellariese was crazy.

'Come on!' Bellariese cried, waving the egg above her head as he nephew approached the shore line. 'It is not that cold — where is that cockiness you had during the First Task?'

Arcturus gulped, and looked at the water.

'It has gone!' he bellowed, shaking his head. 'I am not coming it!'

Bellariese sighed, and rolled her eyes. If only Tonks were there, then she might push her nephew in. She sighed. She guessed she'd have to do this herself.

'Come on, Arc,' she said, indicating again for him to enter. 'If is too cold then you can hex me.'

Whether because he wanted an excuse to Hex his aunt, or because he wanted to find out what the golden egg was about, Bellariese didn't know, but a second later, Arcturus was swimming towards her. He arrived at her side, teeth chattering.

'It is freezing, I will hex you later,' he breathed, taking the egg from his aunt. 'Why are we out here anyway. What will the water do? Make the screaming less subtle?'

Bellariese shrugged and swam over to Amoret and Amaranth, Arcturus following closely behind.

'How am I supposed to know?' she asked, nodding at the eggs. 'Viktor Krum told me.'

Amaranth's eyes narrowed.

'What were you doing taking to Krum?' she asked, cradling her egg. 'He is our competition.'

Bellariese shrugged.

'I pulled in a dept,' she clapped her hands, shuddering. 'Now, are we going to open these eggs, or what?'

'No,' Arcturus said, as his cousin grinned wickedly.

She sank down underneath the water, taking a deep breath as she went, and after a moments hesitation, Bellariese, Amaranth and Arcturus followed too. Although murky, and almost as black as pitch, Bellariese could still see the golden out like of the three eggs. As if acting instinctively, she winced as the three opened their eggs, but instead of the wailing scream that was loud enough to terrify even a banshee, a calming, sweet voice filled their ears.

 _'_ _Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour – the prospect's black_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.'_

Something other then fear crept up Bellariese spine as she rose tot he surfaced bubbles trickling from her mouth, and it wasn't until she set her eyes on her niece and nephew that she realised what it was. Panic. Cold, hard, panic, the likes of which she had not felt in years, ran up her spine, causing her hands to shake, and eyes to quicker. For a long while, the company of four said nothing, just sharing a grim look.

Eventually after what seemed like an age, a voice called out across the Lake,

'What you all doing in there!' the man cried, and the three Blacks, and one Peverell jumped as the voice reached them.

Turning, Bellariese met the ever-so-slightly worried gaze of William Weasley. Her fear turned to anger, and as she turned her back on him, Amaranth cocked her head.

'Who's that?' she asked, as Bill walked down the pebbled path, eyes still on Bellariese's back. Amoret laughed, and Arcturus raised his eyebrow as his aunt's face suddenly reddened.

'Someone from school,' Bellariese answered bluntly, suddenly wishing that a tsunami would take her away. 'We were friends, or sorts,'

Amoret laughed again, and Arcturus grinned.

'If snogging counts as friends,' the almost thirteen-year-old cawed.

Her laughter turned to spluttering anger as her aunt splashed her, covering her in seaweed and black moss.

'Hey!' Amoret cawed, as her mother chuckled, as she glared at her aunt. 'No fair!'

'Spill my secrets, Amoret Merope, and I will ground you so fast that you will have no idea what to do.'

What happened next, was a mad dash of swimming and the occasional water-battle, that by the time Bill approached the water's edge, all four of them were covered in seaweed, grime, and mermaid shit.

It took a long while before they were able to reach the shore, that by the time they did, another person had joined Bill. Dressed in blacks, and with his hooked nose, it wasn't hard to spot Severus Snape, and as the small, and usual family of four, approached, Bellariese saw that her old professor was glaring. She wanted to laugh, but having been taught by the man for almost seven years, Bellariese knew, that to anger him, meant only trouble.

'Miss Black,' Snape drawled, eyes flickering between the shuddering children, and their furious aunt. 'Why were you in the Black Lake?'

Bellariese grinned, eyebrows raising as she wrapped her cloak around herself, and picked up the clothes she had discard earlier. It was pretty cold to be dressed in a swimsuit, but still, it was amusing.

'We were making sure that our theories about the second task were right,'

'And they would be?'

Bellariese raised her eyebrow, and tapped her nose.

'Now that would be telling,' she said, smiling darkly.

She nodded at Bill, curtly acknowledging his presence.

'Happy birthday,' she said, sharply, before turning to her niece, nephew and Amaranth.

'Now if you will excuse me, I must go to the library. There is a book I would like to pick out, so if you would not mind moving…'

She indicated to Bill, who stepped to the side. She smiled sarcastically.

'Thank you,' she said.

It didn't take her long to walk up to the library, although she did get a few strange looks, and as pulled her jumper over her sopping head, she wondered if there had ever been a time when an ex-student had walked out of the Black Lake. She laughed slightly, as she passed Madam Prince, and ignoring the grumpy looks the old Librarian gave her, she walked right into the restricted section.

There was something incredibly appealing to walk into a place with the word, "restricted" in its title. Perhaps it was the mystery of the word, the wonder about what could be so bad that it was "restricted", but as Bellariese walked through the doors, a thrill of unimaginable joy flooded down her spine. A wide grin rose to her lips, her hands shaking as she stared down the corridor of bookshelves, and before anyone could drag her away, the Earl began to search.

Book, while considered dusty and old to Sirius, had always been something that both Regulus and Bellariese and bonded over. That bond had only grown once Sirius had left, and although the moiety was faint, the witch did remember a time when Regulus would pull her onto his lap and read her Beedle the Bard.

Their mother, at the time, and possibly up until the very end, had loathed that book, burning ever copy she could find until, only the one in Sirius' room remained. In secret, the younger children of the Black Household had gathered secret meetings after Sirius and left, sitting in his muggle-fied- porn-pictured room, and reading.

They read until the sun came up, and read when their mother was out, and from those stories, muggle stories filled with glass slippers and tales of dragons, and men who could live for ever, Regulus and Bellariese learned that, just as all Slytherins weren't Death Eaters, that all Muggles, were not Wizard Haters. Maybe that was the reason for her love of "restricted" books, but whatever the reason, it didn't take Bellariese to find the book she was looking for.

Surprisingly, "Selkies, Grindylows and Mer-kind" was sitting on a very proud pedestal, the cover clamped shut by a large rusted lock. Bellariese ran her hands over the cover, her skin nicking on the sharp spikes that bound the leather, and as her blood bloomed on her palm, and idea suddenly struck her. Remember a vision from long ago, she gathered her hair in a tight grip, and drew a bead of lake water into her hand. After slowly mixing her blood and the water together, the Earl held it over the lock and waited. It took a long while for enough blood to emulate in her hand before it dropped on the lock, but as soon as it did, a loud wail ripped through the library.

A wicked smile left the Earl's lips as she realised just what creature was screaming, and it wasn't until she trend the page, that the book stopped. She heard the sound of hurried feet, and a second later, Madam Prince stumbled into the room, black hair framing her face as she looked around for the scream's source.

'It is all right, Eileen,' Bellariese assured her, drawing the woman's attention away from the bookshelves and to her. 'It was book.'

Eyes narrowed, the witch turned around, lips tight.

'If it screams again,' she called as she walked out of the restricted section. 'Then I'm throwing you out!'

Bellariese nodded, and looked at the page. In her haste, she had somehow turned to a section on mermaid law, and as she read, her eyes widened, and her heart rate dropped. Turning, Bellariese knelt on the floor, quickly rummaging thought her coat pocket, until she drew out a giant brick, that supposedly could call anyone from anywhere, and a deep yellow file. After making sure that the muggle-calling device was on, and after pulling the antenna up, she opened the file. Suddenly grateful that he past self had calmed the phone to never run out of juice, Bellariese quickly typed in the number from the file and turned back to the book. If she was right, then she might be able to do something other then watch the Triwizard Tournament.

After the fourth ring, someone answered the phone.

'Am I speaking with, Katarina Vasilieva-Skarsgård?' Bellariese asked, before the speaker on the other end of the line could answer. There was a pause on the end of line, the sound of someone breathing, and then a second later, a woman spoke.

'Who is this?'

Her voice was soft and jumpy, and defiantly Scandinavian, however, unlike the faint Swedish lull that Bellariese was expecting, the woman's accent was mixed with something else. Russian maybe? Judging by her surname she had to have Russian blood in her somewhere.

'My name is Bellariese Black,' the Earl continued, staring out over the water, eyes glassy as she spoke. 'I am calling on behalf of the British Ministry of Magic, and I was simply wondering what a Magizoologist is doing out in the Baltic Sea - I suspect it is rather cold living on that boat at this time of year?'

There was a sharp breath on the other end, and the sound of something heavy dropping to the ground. A rope perhaps?

'Who is this?' Katarina gasped, fear colouring her words. 'How do you know where I live?'

Bellariese huffed.

'I told you my dear,' she answered. 'My name is Bellariese Black, and I am calling on behalf of the Ministry.'

She looked down at the file on the floor, eyes reading over the yellowed pages, with an amused grin.

'What do you want with me?'

The question was blunt and harsh, and to Bellariese's amusement, the fear that had lingered in Katarina's voice had faltered.

'Well, judging from your file, I would say that your well versed in magical-creatures being a Magizoologist and all.' Bellariese continued, crossing her legs. 'I was wondering if I could ask you about a creature.'

There was a small snort on the other end of the line.

'I'm a Magizoologist, who works with the sea, Miss Black, so if there isn't anything else, I must—'

'Oh but there is, Miss Vasilieva-Skarsgård,' Bellariese interrupted, grinning to herself. 'Because the subject I am wondering about, does live in the sea. Considering that you are a master in the civilisations of magical underwater creatures, I was wondering if you could help me.'

'What would you do with this information,' the reply was almost as quick as Bellariese's and the woman smiled.

'That is not important,' Bellariese mused, 'but if you help me, Miss Vasilieva-Skarsgård, then I will not tell anyone about your ancestry, because judging from what I have seen about your life, it will not end well for you, if I blab.'

There was another pause, as Katarina contemplated what to do.

'What are you?' she asked, fear suddenly creeping back into her voice.

Bellariese grinned, and leaned back on her heels, propping the muggle phone on her shoulder as she turned the book's page.

'Now that's a question — to put it bluntly, I am a Seer.' Bellariese said. There was another long pause.

'What do you want to know?'

Bellariese grinned.

'Under the laws set down by Prince Triton, can mermaids legally hold a human hostage, and can a human be legally kill by a mermaid if not found?'

Silence.

'No,' the Magizoologist said.

Bellariese grinned, and before Katarina could explain, ended the call. She turned back to the pedestal, picking up the book and pressing it tightly against her breast.

Checkmate!

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Hi Everyone,**

**I know it's a short one, but I have a life, and I had writer's block, so sorry. Anyway, here you go — you can see the beginning of Amaranth's painful descent into Tom's hands — and don't worry, you'll meet her father again. I also included a new character — Katarina Vasilieva-Skarsgård — but don't go looking for her, she won't turn up again for a while — in another story to me exact.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. I'm starting to feel sorry for Bellariese, and trust me, we haven't even gotten to the dark bits yet. Prepare yourselves — strap your seatbelts on kids — it's going to be a long one!**

**I am now sticking to my timetable. If you want to know when I'll next be uploading this story, check out my timetable on my profile, (along with the damn poll I set up months ago!), and see when I'll be posting a chapter. It should be under "Timetable for Stories." You'll also see all the other stories I've got to do, so yeah, if I see another review with only "update" as a comment, then I might just throw myself against a wall and cry, (note the sarcasm people). But seriously if one more person asks me that I'll flip.**

**I am writing fourteen on going fanfic stories, about thirty unpublished fanfic stories, two of own goddamn books which by the way, are hard, as one is set in fantasy universe where I have to think up goddamn everything to make it realistic, and an urban-fantasy set in are world with a really horrible story, and on top of all of this I work, and am about to go to university to study Archeology — chill with the "update" comments, okay — I'll get round to it. I've given you the info people — please use it and step away.**

 

**Next up in the past department we will meet the Warrior of all Warriors, the star of Orion's belt, and the woman who taught Bellariese nearly every spell and dark curse that she knows — enter stage right: Bellatrix Lestrange!**

**Sorry if I'm a little salty, exhaustion has decided to move in, "hi exhaustion" (and madness…),**

**from,**

**Lily**


	9. The Warrior, the Third and the Seer

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**Morgan: more-gan**

**Serafina: Serr-uh-fee-na**

**Magdala: M AE G Dolla**

**Alaric: aa, l aa r ee k**

**Melania: Me-la-nia**

**Patronilla: Pat-tro-nilla:**

**Libra: l-EE-b-r-uh**

**Aries: AIR-ee-eez**

**Akeda: AA-HH-KEA-DA**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

**The Warrior, the Third and the Seer**

**21st of July, 1971**

_The bracelet was beautiful. Made from golden painted ivory, and encrusted with rubies and diamonds, the ancestral bracelet of the Lestrange House would have made any woman gush — even Bellatrix had fallen for its charm, that was, before she knew what it actually was. Now, even though its beauty complemented her dark colouring and pale eyes, the bracelet itself had become something of a cage for the witch._

_Trapped in spells and dark magic, the Blood Marriages of the Pureblood World were still happening, and even though it was technically illegal, the Sacred Twenty-Eight had managed to twist the law around their wands until no-one, but them, could enact it._

_The Magical Choosing of her youngest cousin was something only a few attended, and while Bellatrix Lestrange was hopeful that her aunt and uncle wouldn't choose an heir to marry off their youngest daughter, she had a funny feeling that no matter how many people protested, Walburga Black would get her way. There weren't many Pureblood's left, and while Bellariese was the last of many girls born to the Secret-Twenty Eight, there were only four eligible"men" left._

_She had only ever visited the Black Castle once, and that had been before Sirius was born, and she was considered the heir. Although at the time Lady Black wasn't all that impressed, mainly due to the fact that she was a girl, there was no denying that her distant cousin, and Earl of the House, Arcturus Black III, was. Although born at a time when woman's rights were next to none, Arcturus understood the power of a witch. He himself had seen the rise and fall of Grindelwald, and while the Earl hadn't played a big part in the war, he did remember those who had fought against him, most promptly the witches who had laid down their lives._

_The Grand Hall, although old and mysterious creaky, gave little comfort to Bellatrix as she entered the room, her fiancé striding forward so that she had no choice but to wander in behind him. Her jaw clenched as Rodulphus paused, shaking the hand of Minister Bagnold as he waited for his to-be-wife to approach. But while Bellatrix was under the influence of the Blood Bind, it wasn't going to control who she spoke to, and so, after gathering up her courage, the to-be Lady of the Lestrange Family, turned towards her cousins._

_Although cousins through marriage, and by blood, and considering that her mother had ash blonde hair, a trait that Narcissa had somehow picked from the Rosier line, the Crowning Heirs of the Black family and Bellatrix looked awfully similar. With their dark features, and pale skin, the descendants of Morgan Pendragon were nearly vague outlines of their ancestor. While it was true that their cores were strong, and bloodline proud, none of the Black Family had inherited Morgan's particular penance to see the future, or her red hair. Truth be told, it was a little insulting, that a family like the Weasleys, a family which Bellatrix was repulsed to remember she was related to, had inherited Morgan's famous fire locks._

_Sirius, the eldest of Orion's children, and the one who had stolen the Earlship from her at birth, was leaner then the last time she had seen him. His hair was longer, his face tanner, and as Bellatrix approached, her gaze locked with a cold grey. It was a little unnerving to see that all but one of Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga's children had inherited the grey eyes, and while Regulus stood out, blue hidden behind his dark hair, Bellatrix wondered if those eyes would glare at her too._

_Eventually, her aunt spotted her, and after a slight pause, she strode forward, blonde hair pulled out of her face in a sleek bun. Unlike her aunt, who preferred her hair to be pulled back, Bellatrix liked her hair to be free. Maybe it had something to do with her mother explaining to her at a young age, that any woman with bound hair was bound to their magic, but as Bellatrix grew older, and her hair lengthened, she felt no need to tame it. As usual, the thin look her aunt gave her was apparent on her face, however, as Regulus approached, sister in his arms, the glare faded. It was obvious how Walburga felt about her eldest and youngest child, for the stories that were whispered around family gathering were enough to make Bellatrix feet curl._

_'_ _Bellatrix, darling,' Walburga purred and she clasped her niece's hands. 'How are you? Is the wedding-planning going well?'_

_If she hadn't been in the presence of her aunt, she would have shuddered. The Wedding… The thought rattled around her head like an egg, and as Bellariese let go of her aunt's hands, she noticed that the little girl in Regulus' arms was staring at her._

_'_ _Is this her?' Bellatrix asked, changing the subject. Walburga's eyes narrowed, and before she could speak, her husband nodded._

_'_ _Yes,' he said, smiling softly at the child. 'This is our child,'_

_Even though they were surrounded by people, Bellatrix was a little bit saddened that her favourite uncle wasn't going to tell her the child's name. Tradition obviously came above blood, and while Bellatrix could understand why Orion and Walburga were holding back the name, (just in case a monster were lurking in the shadows) it was a little bit insulting that she, their favourite niece, would have to wait like everyone else._

_The girl in question hadn't stopped staring at her since she came in, and as Regulus' grip on her tightened she began to wail. Her eyes screwed up tight, and Bellatrix took a hesitant step back as the child's cry grew into loud, earsplitting scream. Before she could really comprehend what she was doing, Bellatrix lurched forward, snatching the child from her cousin's grip, and holding her tight._

_The baby suddenly stopped crying, content in Bellatrix's arms, and as Walburga stared at her, Regulus laughed suddenly, and Orion rolled his eyes; but it was Sirius who glared, who looked like he was about to erupt into a spitting fire. It was only then, as Bellatrix held the child, that she saw that her mark was showing._

_Etched painfully against her skin, as if someone had carved up her left forearm with a knife, the Dark Mark lay. Coloured black, the ink bubbled and writhed, the snake twisting tightly around her wrist, as if it were cutting off her circulation._

_'_ _Orion!' a voice suddenly called, and Bellatrix turned, her eyes narrowing as her gaze landed on a woman with black hair wound tightly in two long rope braids._

_Dressed in pale silks, and with a warm smile on her lips, Bellariese was a little bit surprised to see her old Ancient Runes Professor, and judging by the look that crossed Walburga's face, so was she. But apparently her uncle was no, and before anyone could protest, Orion wrapped the woman in a strong hug._

_A flash of cold anger crossed Walburga's face, but it was quickly masked by a thin, unrevealing smile, as the two pulled away._

_'_ _Serafina White,' Orion said, as Sirius wondered away, gaze never leaving Bellatrix's arms. 'How are you?'_

_It was common knowledge that Lady White had recently lost her husband in an accident, leaving the woman with a vast fortune, and a thin viewpoint — what wasn't common knowledge was that the Dark Lord Bellatrix was working for, had done it. Whether Serafina knew that Lord Voldemort had murdered her husband or not, Bellatrix didn't know, but just to be safe, she pulled her glove back up, hidden not only the mark, but the bracket as well._

_'_ _Well…' Serafina breathed, waving her hand. 'To be perfectly honest…'_

_She sighed._

_'_ _First my mother died — then Magdala, and now Alaric… It would seem that fate wished me to be lonely forever, so forgive me my old friend, but I am not doing well.'_

_Even in the dark lighting, Bellatrix was still able to catch Regulus' face, and before anyone could stop them, the two cousins, and the baby girl, moved away, so that they could stand next to the buffet table and promptly stuff their faces. Well, Regulus stuffed his face, Bellariese on the other hand nursed a burning pain in her arm, as her blood ring intensified its pain by a million. Apparently, Rodolphus wasn't all that fond of her hanging out with Reg — or maybe it was because she had embarrassed him in front of the Minister. Whatever the case, her arm was begin to hurt, to the point where she closed her eyes tight._

_'_ _You want me to hold her?' Regulus suddenly asked, and Bellatrix's eyes snapped open. Regulus was cradling a plate full of Millefeuille. The layered pastry and fruit shook as he tried to snatch a caramel encrusted profiterole from the top of its tower A smile reached her lips and she shook her head._

_'_ _And risk you dropping your food?' Bellatrix asked as the child began to wriggle. 'No chance,'_

_Regulus grinned, and managed to take a bite of his food, just before the light went dark. The two froze, and Bellatrix hadn't drifted to her wand, but before she could, the lights came back on, and standing on a grand stage, dressed in blacks and golds, was the Earl of Black._

_Arcturus Black III stared out of the crowd with a thin stare, his grey eyes flickering between guests as if he were a snake and he were about to devour them. A long, twisted, white oak staff rested in his hand, (a antique supposedly used by Morgana Pendragon herself), the end tapping against the floor as he waited. His wife stood next to him, blood-red hair pulled tightly out of her face in a thick, plaited bun, and as she too watched the crowd, Bellariese suddenly realised that Melania Black (née Macmillan), was quiet possibly the most dangerous person in the room._

_She green eyes were thin, and watchful, her head held high as she waited for her husband to speak, and as Bellatrix waited for the awful words to come from her Earl's mouth, she began to shake. Just what was the child's name and just who had she been bound to?_

_'_ _My honoured guests,' the Earl began, his voice surprisingly soft for a man with such power, 'welcome to the Black Castle. My wife and I thank you for coming to this important event, as not will it secure the bloodline of our family for the next generation, but it will also bind the Sacred-Twenty-Eight together in a bond that we can never shake.'_

_It was the same speech he had said at her own binding, or at least, that was what Bellatrix had read in the recored manuscript that some paid official had been instructed to write down. All around her, important officials and purebloods in precious gems, smiled boredly, as if they really couldn't be bothered to hang around for another announcement._

_'_ _Tonight, we shall honour the betrothal of two young, Purebloods.' the Earl said. 'A binding between my granddaughter and Bartemius Crouch Jr,'_

_The plate in Regulus' hands smacked against the floor, and a few people turned to glare at him. The china crunched under Bellatrix's food as she took a hesitant step towards her cousin, placing a hand on his shoulder. But he ignored her, and instead was glaring at Crouch._

_The boy in question was as white as a sheet, his lips a pale blue against the wateriness of his eyes, that as his father pressed a firm hand to his shoulder, Bellatrix wondered if the boy was going to faint. The Earl on the other hand, ignored the crash, and Barty's face, and instead indicated to his wife, who unrolled a long parchment._

_'_ _In keeping with our laws,' Lady Melania breathed, voice clear and delicate as freshly twisted glass, 'I can now unveil the child's name. Born to Orion and Walburga Black on the Third of December, Nineteen-Seventy, their third, and youngest child was named by the Naming Seer, Patronilla de Pavia, and shall be accepted into this family now.'_

_She looked at the name, and for a split second the blood left her cheeks, and she shared a frantic look with her son, as if to say, "really?" Bellariese couldn't for the life of her understand why the baby's name was so terrible — that was until it was read._

_Bellariese Walburga Black; and the ghosts began to move._

_She called them ghosts, because truthfully, she wasn't sure what they were. Two woman, both identical, in everything but death, suddenly materialised in front of the stage, their grey eyes searching the room for the child in Bellatrix's arms. When then found her, they advanced, approaching so quickly that Bellatrix barely had time to whip out her wand before they took the child. As the women's fingers brushed against her arm, Bellatrix suddenly caught the memory of burning wood, and a tightly woven rope, before the youngest child of Orion was pulled away from her._

_It took Bellatrix a little longer then she wold have like to admit, to realise that the two woman were the last people to be named Bellariese. She remembered how her grandfather, Lord Pollux Black, had told her how the name Bellariese was cursed. Born to neither a star, nor a flower, the name while proud with being the first Black ever to hold magic, was also steeped in darkness. It was a Seer's name — a dark, bloody name that always ended in death, and as the two ghost turned, eyes glassy white, Bellatrix realised that she as staring at the Original and the Second — Bellariese Libra, and Bellariese Aries, and now, their was Bellariese Walburga._

_'_ _We name you Akeda!' Earl Black suddenly said, as the Original and the Second closed their eyes. 'Just as the Original and the Second before you received this True Name, we shall also bind you to your Given Name, Bellariese, to stop those who would harm you with your Name.'_

_The child's true name flickered for a few second in the air, before disappearing. The ghost wavers, and Bellatrix ran forwards, arms outreached as they vanished. Bellariese Walburga landed in her arms, eyes wide, mouth open as if the secrets of the universe ha just been disposed on her. People murmured all around her, their words twisting and turning in their thoughts as a small ring was placed on Bellariese's hand, and it was in the chaos, in the questioning, and the stunned expressions that Bellatrix smiled._

_Bellariese… a name which meant Beautiful Ardent… a name which carried death… a name, worthy of the House of Black…_

_Bellatrix was the Warrior, her name shining through right up until the day she died; and this baby, this Thing, this beautiful little girl with her uncle's grey eyes, was the Ardent. This, in a way, whether her aunt liked it or not, this would be her daughter._

_It was as Bellatrix was holding Bellariese, holding the child close against her breast, that she noticed that her eyes were flickering, a faint film of white drifting across the child's vision, just like the Original and her counterpart after her._

_The Warrior's stomach dropped; Ardent was the Third._

* * *

**19th of December 1994,**

Dress shopping wasn't something Bellariese had ever been very good at. While it was true that as a child she had worn every singly type of gown in her mother's, and my extension, grandmother's attempt to make her a proper "lady" Bellariese's mind hadn't spent any time there. Whenever she had needed a dress, or when her grandmother's personal seamstress came over, her mind immediately transported itself to the back of her head, so that she had glazed expression cast over her eyes. Which was why, Bellariese looked a little bit like she was under the Imperius Curse as Amoret rushed around the dress shop, as she waited for her niece to find a gown.

Truth be told, Bellariese would have rather suck her head underwater and had a conversation with the Giant Squid then ever step foot in Madam Malkin's ever again, and yet, when Amoret had awoken her, instructing her that she didn't have a dress for the supposed Yule Ball, Bellariese was ready to fall into a volcano. A petulant scowl marred her lips, her fingers massaging her skull as her niece appeared and re-appeared every few minuets, a new dress on and it was beginning to become rather exhausting. There would be a twirl, a shake of the head, and Amoret would disappear, flouting off into the dressing room to try on another.

Amaranth, on the other hand, was searching the racks, looking for a dress, an unimaginably wide grin on her face. Like her daughter she too would pick up a dress, look at it, and then find another one. Only Arcturus, who had found a dress-robe in about three seconds, looked equally bored, his eyes drooping as he struggled so stay awake. He was leaning on his aunt's shoulder, blond hair falling around his face, that as Amaranth picked up a dress, he didn't even hear her squeal.

'Oohh!' the witch breathed, grass-green eyes widening as she examined a shimmery, blue dress. 'This looks nice. If only I could have worn this fifteen years ago - Sirius would not have been able to take his eyes off me.'

Bellariese huffed, closing her eyes as her almost-maybe-sister-in-law rushed towards a mirror.

'He all ready could not take his eyes off you,' Bellariese muttered, remembering the vision, wishing that she could scrub her mind dry of all the times she had witness the snappy look on her brother's vision face.

'What as that?' Amaranth asked, turning around. Bellariese shook her head.

'Nothing nothing,' she said waving her away. 'You look beautiful,'

She paused, resting her hand on her forehead.

'Who are you going to the ball with anyway?' she asked as Amaranth reached into her bag, pulling out a few golden coins. 'It cannot be Sirius.'

Amaranth grinned at her.

'You don't know?' she asked, cocking her head. 'Well, that interesting — for now, let us just say an old friend,'

She tapped her nose.

'So Snape?'

The witch didn't answer, and Bellariese wondered if the daughter of Terrin Peverell had truly gone insane, but before she could, Amoret came out, holding her folded dress over her arm.

'Got one!' she cried, grinning. 'Can we go now!'

Arcturus, as if waiting for such an announcement, looked up, grinning.

'Yes!' he cried, and stood up. 'Freedom!'

Bellariese laughed, shaking her head as she took the dress from Amoret's hands. It was a soft red, a colour Walburga Black would never have approved of, and she a small shake of her head, Bellariese headed towards the counter. Once paid she handed the now bagged dress to Amoret and smiled at her.

'It is nice,' she said, as the group of four left the shop. 'So who are you going with?'

Amoret shrugged.

'Everyone is to terrified to go with me — apparently I look to much like my father for anyone not to think we are the same person. The other day I had a boy scream in my face.'

Bellariese raised her eyebrows.

'Really,' she hummed, thinking. 'Have you asked someone from Durmstrang?'

Amoret shrugged.

'I guess. But their all so…' she frowned. 'Scary?'

The question that left her lips was conflicted, as if Amoret couldn't quiet decide what she thought of the Durmstrang Students. Bellariese shrugged.

'Well, why don't you just pick someone — you have to for the opening dance,'

Amoret huffed.

'Yeah, I wish I didn't have to do that,'

'So do I!' Arcturus suddenly said, 'I hate Balls,'

Bellariese turned to look at him.

'You have never been to one,' she said. 'This will be your first Yule Celebrations outside of my care.'

She frowned.

'Are you both ready for it?' she asked, stopping them and holding their arms, her eyes narrowing as she looked at them. 'And I do not mean physically: are you mental prepared for the judging, the scrutiny, and the rumours that will follow?'

For a short while, her niece and nephew gave her a very worried look, their eyebrows drawing together that for a heartbreaking moment, Bellariese saw Sirius and Regulus in both their faces. That thought quickly left her together however, as the two nodded, their lips thinning as they shared a small smile.

'Do not worry, Aunt Reece!' Arcturus cried, smiling brightly as he wrapped an arm around Amoret's shoulder. 'Retty and I can take care of ourselves,'

Amoret scowled at the nickname.

'Don't call me that,' she hissed. Arcturus raised his eyebrows.

'Really?' he asked, leaving forward so that he towered over her. 'And what are you going to do if I continue?'

Amoret's lips pulled into a thick smirk.

'I will tie stick your shit to the ceiling again,' she said, grinning widely. There was a deep sigh, and Arcturus glared at his cousin.

'Retty, Retty, Retty,' he breathed, shaking his head. 'You forget that I have magic now. Meaning—'

He drew his mother's wand, and with a tight flick, the rope braid that hung down Amoret's back unfurled and her hair exploded into a tight, mess. There was a faint burning smell, and a second later her shoes burnt into flame. Arcturus' face paled as Amoret began hopping around the place the like the pot from the old Beedle the Bard story. Bellariese sighed, rising her head in her palms.

'Amaranth,' she breathed, as she woman came up behind, head lodged in a book. 'Can you help?'

But the woman had all ready raised her wand, and a second later, the fire faltered, and a bucket of water appeared above Amoret's head, drenching her. Amoret looked up, hair falling in rattails around her face, and her lips curled as she glared at her cousin.

'You are so dead, Arcturus Regulus,' she hissed, hands clenching as she stalked forward. 'So very dead!'

But before Arcturus could run, or before Amoret could hex him into oblivion, Bellariese grabbed the cousins by their arms, and dug her nails into her skin. If she couldn't use magic, then she'd have to separate them the muggle way.

'Oi!' she snapped, pulling Amoret close to her as she lunched forward, ready to try and rip her cousin's eyeballs out as Arcturus tried to get out of her grip. 'Calm down. I need to go to Gringotts to get some money for your Yule Gifts, and if you do not stop arguing then I will leave you in Borgin and Burkes.'

Amoret froze, arms freezing in mid air; Arcturus' eyes widened and he shopped struggling.

'Now I will be an hour at least, so wait for me at the Leaky Cauldron,' she gave the two a thin look. 'And if I hear from Amaranth that you two were fighting, then you will receive your Yule Presents next year. Do I make myself clear?'

The two nodded, and Bellariese let go.

'Good,' she said, looking at Amaranth who was smiling softly. 'Keep them safe,'

Amaranth nodded.

'Will do,' she said, saluting. Rolling her eyes, Bellariese gave the two teens another firm look, before she headed down the street to Gringotts.

When she was a child, the large building was obnoxiously proud, and even at a young age, Bellariese could feel the protective wards breath her feet, and understood the terror that guarded the vaults — or perhaps it was down to the fact that her mother had locked her in one when she was nine.

Whatever the case, Bellariese wasn't all to happy as she approached the front desk and waited for the Head Goblin. He was an old Goblin, with thinning hair, and long sharp teeth that glittered in the cold light, and as soon as he saw her he growled softly. Even after all this time, the goblins still were wary of her.

Bellariese sighed.

'I would like to visit my vault,' she breathed, as she rummaged though her bag for her key. Holding out his hand, the Goblin waited, and with a small, "there it is" Bellariese handed it over. The key was heavy in her hand, made from Goblin-wrought silver and at the top, it had the faded crest of the Black Family carved into the metal.

While the crest was ancient, Bellariese, and anyone else for that matter couldn't quiet understood where it came from. Some suggested that the wand was a symbol of their power, a time when the family was leading rulers in the wizarding world; other said that the three crows were a sign of the curse that ran in the family. Whatever the cast, Bellariese had learnt to appreciate and hate the crest, for while it meant something to her, it was also soaked in blood, war and down right darkness.

It took the Goblin far longer then Bellariese would have liked to inspect the key, but after along while, he looked up , glasses falling down his long nose, and gave her a pointed look.

'If you could follow me,' he said, and stepped down from his pedestal.

It took the two along time to reach the Black Vault, and by the time the underground cart stopped outside a cave deep underground the bank, Bellariese was beginning to feel very sink. With a bated breath, Bellariese got out of the carriage sand stared at Vault Seven-Hundred and Eleven.

The vault doors were tall and magnificent, the black cold iron keeping out any being that was foolish enough to touch it. Even the Head Goblin looked nervous as Bellariese approached, his fear over the metal's power far too strong for his desire of her gold. The gate was at least thirty feet tall, the black metal testing and turning like thorns, that as a child, Bellariese had often wondered if the gate was the magical wall from the muggle-fairytale Sirius once read to her about a sleeping princess and a wall of thorns. Dark magic oozed from the gate, the matter twisting and turning around Bellariese's soul like an icy hand, and as she stepped forward, a pulse ripped through the cave.

It blew around the room like lightning, knocking Bellariese and the Head Goblin with such a force that, later, dark bruises would be lashed across their skin. An invisible wind suddenly rose, the air whipping wildly, thumping at the cave walls with such anger, that for a split second Bellariese wondered if the gates were going to kill her.

Reaching forward, the Earl of Black crawled forwards, her hair ripping against the wind, her robes spreading as the magic intensified. Her eyes widened, her lips tightening as her body shook, her hand aching as she reached for her bag. It took a long while, but eventually, Bellariese managed to pull out her knife, and with one large scream, she stabbed her arm. Blood pooled beneath her, the red mixing with her tears as she leaned forward, her other hand quickly drawing the past code on the floor. She screamed again, the voice of a wild animal ripping from her lungs as the magic tightened, the air constricting her lungs; it was then that she managed to finish the words.

The hurricane suddenly died, the black splotches that had formed her vision dispersing as Bellariese lay on the floor, blood soaking her clothes, turning her grey robes a deep black. A small, demented laughed rose to her lips, the giggle spluttering the silence as she stared at the words: Toujours Pur. Her family really were morbidly obvious….

From behind her, Bellariese heard the Head Goblin rising to his feet. He muttered, what Bellariese assumed was a curse, under his breath in Gobbledegook, and helped her to his feet. Now that the wards were cleared, the doors open with a simple push, and before the Goblin could warn Bellariese or ask her to wait, the witch walked inside.

The Black Vault, like may Vaults in Gringotts was long, ancient and bursting with gold. Coins lay around the vault floor in large piles, or rested in silver basins. Paintings of long deceased family members hung on the walls, their thin gazes watching Bellariese as she stepped forward, her blood running down the side of her arm. If she had her magic, then she wold have healed herself, but with nothing but her Visions, Bellariese was utterly useless. Madam Pomfrey was going to have a heart attack when Bellariese returned to Hogwarts.

Standing in the middle of the room, resting on a large dais was a pair of ebony thrones, the last reminder to anyone other then a Black, that the house once were their rulers. Silver fabric coated the seats, the velvet soft and clean, as if they had been made only yesterday, and the carving of three large ravens sat along their backs, the family animal protecting anyone who sat on it from an attack.

A single silver and onyx crown sat on the chair's and as Bellariese walked forward, something in her gut pulled her towards it, and with a hesitant gasp, put the crown on her head. Having been worn by her ancestry before her, Bellariese was expecting to feel their memories and thoughts in the wood, but she hand't expected tit to be so powerful.

She gasped, retching slightly as the thoughts of the Lost Black Kings ran down her spin, pushing their very bearings into her mind, until she sat back down on the throne, heart pounding against her ribs. Her vision blurred, and it was only when a pale hand touched her forehead, that the horrible numbing finally stopped.

It was then, that the woman moved. She wore a long purple robe, her blonde hair swept out of her face in a simple bun. She was beautiful, in a sort of etherial, unnatural way, and her skin glowed a deep bronze as Bellariese stood, removing the crown and as she rested it back on the stool, the woman took a step forwards. The Earl's eyes darkened, her lips thinning as the goddess extended her hand, the soft crosses of her flesh pinking in the cold vault.

'Good evening,' the woman said, her voice soft and gentle. Bellariese took a hesitant step back.

'No…' she growled, raising her hand. 'Do not come near me — I do no need you to interfere with my life again!'

'My dear?' the woman breathed, leaning on the throne as she stared at Bellariese. 'Is that any way to speak to me?'

Bellariese glared.

'It's lovely to see you too,' she hissed, marching over to the door, nocking over a large book on her way. Quickly, before it could hit the ground, she reached out, grabbing the heavy tomb. Bellariese looked up, eyes narrowing. 'Now why don't you fuck off,

'Oh, my dear, Ella,' the woman breathed, smiling softly. 'Is that anyway to talk to an old friend? I did introduce you to the Trickster after all. I was his wife before he died.'

Sigyn grin suddenly widened as the Seer turned, anger burning in her eyes, the grimoire glowing a bright green against her chest.

'There you are, Seer,' the Goddess of Fidelity cawed, lips crying into a smile as the Seer's glared back. 'I was wondering when you would shed your skin.'

And then, as if waiting for such a moment, Bellariese Libra Black, daughter of Morgan Pendragon, and after almost eight hundred years of wondering though two other incarnations, decided, for a split second, to wake up.

* * *

**Dear All,**

**Hi! You have no idea how incredibly sorry I am that this is a day late. Long story short, I wasn't really well yesterday and today at work my mind decided to go down a long line of "lets make you see black for three hours" (I've got a condition that makes me see things that art really there, and when I get stressed, like I was earlier today, it decides to shut down my eyesight, even though my eyes are still working perfectly fine… It's very annoying and I unfortunately discovered it in the middle of a hockey pitch while it was pouring about four years ago.)**

**Also, I have changed my timetable again, and if you look on my profile you will she what I mean — you will also see that I've hiatus-ed several stories, this is due to the fact that I don't know what to write, and I also need a break from writing thirteen stories at once. I also have a Poll for this story on there, so if you could do it would be greatly appreciated.**

**Anyway, those are my excuses for why I was late, also I'm sorry for all the filler chapters of late, but I needed to write them, for you to understand the characters backstories a little bit. The next chapter will be the Yule Ball, and I am so looking forward to writing it, as you will meet a two new characters.**

**Anyway, my favourite author is next in the past — the (obviously made up) descendent of Jacob Grimm, an author in her own right, witch and Durmstrang Graduate; I introduce you all to the one, the only, Griselda Irmgard Grimm.**

**Hope to hear your reviews,**

**from,**

**Lily.**

 


	10. Walpurgis and the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of Bellariese Black was forgotten by the pressing matters of war, that hardly anyone knew she existed. But unknown to her family, and most importantly herself, Bellariese was a Seer. Two paths lay out before her, both starting with her birth and ending with either light or darkness but what lay in between she would never, ever know, until it was too late.

**Disclaimer: I only own Bellariese Black, Amoret Black, Arcturus Black IV, Griselda Grimm and Amaranth Peverell. Everything else belongs to Joanne Rowling!**

* * *

**Griselda: Gris-el-da**

**Anna: An-na**

**Dragamir: Drag-ahh-mirr**

**Igor: ee - g oh r**

**Bellariese: b-ELL-uh-RIY-Z**

**Randall: RAN-DOLL**

**Ignatius: ih g - n ai - sh ih uh s**

**Amoret: am-or-ret**

**Arcturus: ark-TOOR-us**

**Valerian: Vee-lair-i-an**

**Amaranth: a-m-ar-anth**

**Annalise: ae n ah l ee s**

**Myron: My - ron**

**Kirley: Curly**

**Donaghan: DON ah han**

**Gideon: Gide - on**

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

**Walpurgis and the Ball**

**21st of June, 1974**

_The symbol has lain dormant for ninety years, carved into the stone entrance by a sixteen year old hand. Not many noticed the mark, for it had been hastily covered up by Headmistress Nielsen when Gellert Grindelwald had been expelled, and yet, the spells and charms that hid Death's Symbol wasn't enough for Griselda Grimm._

_Having attended Durmstrang Institute for seven years, the young woman was used to the strange happenings that went on in the world's most darkest school. From the growling dragons that hung over the entrance in the dining hall, to the army of polar bears that guarded the school's ground, Griselda was used to students dying every year, however she didn't expect to find the rumoured mark at her graduation._

_Unlike other schools, who celebrated the students achievements by throwing them a massive party, the pupils of Durmstrang has to fight each other. Duelling, encouraged since the Dark Ages, was one of the only ways the students could test their knowledge, and as such Griselda was accustomed to spells and hexed being thrown across classrooms and halls. However, while most of the teachers chastised students if they were caught, the Battle, was a highly awaited event._

_Blood ran down Griselda's neck as she strode forward, wand flashing as she sent spell after spell towards her exponent. Dressed in black robes, and thick boots, Griselda looked more like a terrifying Nattmara than a writer, and as her dark hair fell behind her in a thick plait, she couldn't help grin as Anna Petrova shook in her shoes. Enemies since their first year, Headmaster Dragomir Stefan, had paired the two up, and whether intentional or not, had opened Pandora's Box. Emotions were high as the two girls fought, that in the first thirty-seconds wounds were seeping through their clothes, and hexes were burning._

_A wild laugh laughed Griselda's lips, as she spun, her magic curling off her like a whip. Red marks marred Anna's body, skin bubbling fiercely as Griselda's magic swam around the room. The witch ducked as a stray spell snapped off the walls, Anna's magic fighting back. Griselda landed on stone, wrists wincing as she landed, her chin smashing. Anna barely had time to gloat, as Griselda rose, chin bloody, and with a single breath, the witch found herself wrapped up in a thick chain. A wrenched roar left Anna's lips, her hands pulling tightly on the chains as she fell backwards, back arching as she struggled against the bind._

_'Enough!' a voice bellowed, and Griselda glanced up, eyes locking with Headmaster Stefan._

_Unlike the founder, the man was as thin as a skeleton, his hands cradling his wand with such casualty that the students often wondered if he was simply lazy. But he wasn't lazy, not ever, he was too noble for that, which was why, as he approached the girls, blue eyes glittering behind greying hair, Griselda's heart dropped. She was going to be in a whole lot of hell later._

_'Grimm, release Petrova; you've won,'_

_There was a short, breathless gasp from Anna as her head swirled around to meet their Headmaster, as if she did not believe him. Griselda's eyes hardened, and with a reluctant wave of her wand, the chains scattered, clunking on the wood. Anna slumped, her body exhausted, as blood seeped, her face pale with a deathly pallor._

_A few students rushed forward, gently picking up Anna, levitating her away to the Hospital. Griselda on the other hand, stayed put. She didn't feel afraid when Headmaster Stefan came over, not even a little, instead, she just simply stared him down, her wand extended in case she needed to use it. But instead of hexing her for hurting one of his best students, he simply handed over a letter, and nodded, in a way of congratulations, before calling out the next participant._

_Feeling a little shaken, Griselda walked away, trickling out of the grand hall until she made her way to the front steps, her eyes starting up at the sky. Housed in a mountain, Durmstrang lay hidden on Svalbard's shores, and while the tiny island had seen blood, war and death far too many times, Griselda couldn't help but feel comfort in the ancient landscape._

_An endless sun shone down on her, and although it was night, she didn't feel sleepy, and it was as she sat down, legs handing over the cliff's edge, that she noticed the symbol. Having learnt Grindelwald's symbol as a child, she was a little surpassed to see it carved onto the stone, and as she traced the sign, she realised with a horrid jolt that Gellert must have sat in the exact place she was sitting in now._

_Shuffling, she moved to the left, her eyes falling on a scene below as a wicked roar filled the air. Two polar bears, one male, the other female fought over a cub, the tiny creature a white ball against the rocky ground, and for once, Griselda was glad to be so high up._

_It was as she was staring out at the horizon, that she heard footsteps, and a second later someone sat next to her. Griselda bristled, back tightening as a man joined her, his eyes following her gaze. For a long while he said nothing, and then,_

_'My name is Igor Karkaroff,' the man said, Norwegian coating his tongue, as she stared out across the sea, confirming that not only he was an ex-student but he didn't know her nationality at all. 'I saw how well you fought.'_

_'What about it?' Griselda grunted. 'I won, end of story,'_

_The man laughed slightly, shaking his head._

_'End of story? My you really are an interesting girl. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have a proportion for you?'_

_Griselda snorted, drawing herself up so that her chin rested on her knees, black hair whipping in the wind. The Polar Bears were fighting now, the mother and male ripping each other to pieces against the unnaturally bright night, so that in the sun they looked like white blobs of ice. The cub beside her wined, keeping well away but there was something frisky in the bear's movements, as if he wanted to help, but didn't know how. But it was the roaring and the bellowing, and the sound of flesh ripping against nail, that had Griselda's hairs on end. Just who was going to win?_

_'What sort of preposition?' she asked, finally, turning away from the fight, eyes locking with Karkaroff's as she leaned back._

_He was her age, maybe a bit older, with short hair and eyes so blue they might have been ice. His accent was Siberian, and he was taller then her by a good few feet. He sat with a lazy, uninterested manner, as if the polar bear fights was just another occurrence in his life, and the ending was nothing by a mistake. But, as Griselda spoke, something changed. His shoulders straightened, eyes brimming with mirth, as a wicked grim rose to his lips._

_'What have you heard of the Knights of Walpurgis?'_

_And in the dark the male won._

* * *

**25th of December, 1994**

In the years since their graduation, not many of Bellariese's class still kept contact with her. There were a few, but considering that most of her supposed "friends" had buggered off the second she had taken Earlship, Bellariese was particularly short on dates — that was, until she called in a favour. According to his wife, Randall hadn't been all that happy to revive his summonings, but considering Bellariese had been his quote-on-quote "best wizard" at his wedding, he was somewhat encouraged by Turgiva to attend the Yule Ball.

Unlike his elder brothers, Randall took after their mother, his auburn hair falling to his collarbone, the colour a bloody mess against the candle light, his black robes smart and creese free as he waited at the bottom of the steps. His wand sat in his grip, the pale wood glittering in the cold light, that as Bellariese approached, she couldn't help smile at the glares her friend was giving her.

'Ran!' Bellariese said, her lips twitching as she approached, arms held out in a hug. 'How are you?'

'Fuck off, Bellariese Black,' Randall hissed, quickly excepting her hug, his hands gently pressing against the small of her back. 'Fuck off!'

Pulling away, Bellariese noticed a few of people watching them with stricken faces, expressions that grew increasingly more worried when a small smile traced Randall's lips. Apparently there was a similarity between Randall and his brothers after all — or perhaps it was the golden family crest that laced the back of his robes.

Glowering Bellariese looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

'Are you really trying to announce yourself to the world? I thought you preferred to stay quiet?'

Randall shrugged.

'I am a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight,' he said extending his hand. 'I've got a reputation to uphold.'

Bellariese raised her eyebrows, taking her friend hand.

'Does that include scaring the crap out of people?'

In the candlelight Randall's grin widened, and Bellariese suddenly remembered how that grin had gotten him in a whole lot of trouble at Hogwarts - a grin which had charmed Turgiva Selwyn into marriage. She sighed. Of course.

'Hell yeah,' she hissed. 'Now come on, we've got a ball to attend, and I am dying to get drunk,'

Bellariese supposed the two looked rather odd walking down Hogsmeade, all glammed up and dressed to the nines, snow streaking through their hair and clothes, but considering it was Yule, perhaps not. Black was always an appropriate colour for a family so dark, which is why Bellariese had chosen to wear something a bit more loud. Her dress was the colour of wine, a deep, bloody colour that made her a deep stain against the white, and it was as she and Randall entered Hogwarts, did Bellariese suddenly realise how afraid she was; Crouch was going to be there.

Her grip on Randall's arm tightened and her fingers quickly ran to her arm, nails curling around the bracelet and the deep scar that lay there. It was a thick line, scabbed and patchy in some places, but nevertheless incredibly painful. Bellariese shuddered as it burned, another welt appearing on her arm. She had heard the stories, been told by Bellatrix every time her cousin saw her, what had transpired. How on her Name Day, her parents, how her grandmother, had bound her to Barty Crouch Junior. Right through her childhood, and for as long as she could remember, her mother had been trying to prune her for marriage, tame her into a lady worthy of Crouch. Then Barty had died, and the position had fallen to the only male left; his father.

In the beginning, Barteimus Crouch the Elder, had protested profusely, but then Bellariese's family disappeared, parents dying, brothers missing, leaving her the soul heir to a fortune worth trillions, a surname which meant power, a lost title which could command everything, and it was then, only then, that he considers the proportion. For years, Bellariese's grandfather, Arcturus, had fought tooth and nail with his wife, begging her to change the match, suggesting other alternatives, but no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he begged, Melania Black was not moving an inch. The deal was done, and there was no going back.

Breathing deeply, Bellariese shook off her fears, wiping away the panicked expression, replacing it with a small, confidant smile, and walked on. She ignored the resistance of Hogsmeade, she ignored Randall, she ignored even herself, and carried on, pushing her way through the Hogwarts gate with such speed, that Randall had to run. It didn't take them long to approach the castle, the white incrusted fortress that rose tut of the darkness like a glinting star, and as Bellariese walks through it's gilded doorway, (Randall following closely behind her), she couldn't help but grin.

Long gone was the castle's original name, for Salazar's family holding that a guarded secret for all eternity. Hogwarts was its modern name, a faint brush stroke against he one before it, but to the students, whether new or old, it was home. And for Randall and Bellariese that couldn't have been more true.

Her smile turned to a grin as she waited for her friend, his breathless gasps clouding the air, as he approached, auburn hair falling down his face, fear long gone. Holding out her hand, Randall excepted it, and after a moment's hesitation, walked through the door. As soon as the two passed a group of exited Hufflepuffs quiet indued, Randall's presence a terrifying raven against their friendship, and as the two walked by, Randall smiled. Bellariese rolled his eyes. He had always liked the dramatics.

This carried on, right up until the two stood outside the Great Hall, when Professor McGonagall walked over to them, looking the pair up and down with a curious glare. She was dressed in a deep red tartan, the tartan of her family Bellariese realised, and had a collection of ugly thistles around the brim of her hat, her black hair pulled into her usually tight bun. It was only then, in the cold light, that Bellariese noticed the ring that sat on her hand. McGonagall's lips thinned once she saw Bellariese looking and folded her arms, hiding the gold from sight.

'Earl Black,' McGonagall said, nodding at Bellariese. 'As a backer of this tournament, you are encouraged to join the Headmasters and judges at the High Table. You and your…partner will follow me,'

Bellariese nodded, suddenly wondering if there was another word that Professor McGonagall had wanted to call Randall. Death Eater Spawn perhaps? Before the two could say anything, McGonagall walked away, leaving the two to quickly follow. Randall grinned as they walked, sharing a look with Bellariese.

'I think she still hates me,' he whispered as they walked into the hall. Bellariese snorted.

'I do not think she will ever forgive you for missing every single piece of transfiguration homework we ever had,' she replied back, pausing for a second before continuing. 'Did you know she was married?'

Randall shrugged.

'There was a rumour that she married an Urquart,'

'Oh my Merlin,' Bellariese said. 'The Urquarts, like the wizards of Urquhart Castle? By Loch Ness?'

Randall nodded. There was a small cough, and the two turned, faces paling as Professor McGonagall gave the two a thin look.

'Now that you are done discussing my marriageable-status, can you please take your seats,'

Bellariese blushed, biting her lip.

The Great Hall, she realised, was decked out for the ball of all balls. The walls were coated in silver frost, that if Bellariese moved her head, sparkled like ice. Snow fell softly from the enchanted ceiling, melting into nothing before they could touch the floor, and the smell of cinnamon and something fruity coated the air. Green garlands decorated with mistletoe and icy hung in the sky, reaching the beams like bobbling stars, and below the decorations and snow and yuletide festivities, were the students. Sitting at small round tables, the occupancy of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, all dressed in expensive clothes and grand robes. Bellariese's heart gave a little twang when she noticed that a special spot had been assigned to the Black family, and her smile wilded into a true grin as she spotted her cousins sitting there.

Tonks wore a deep yellow robe, her hair a soft purple, the lilac colour twisted into a bun, a few strands framing her face. But perhaps the most surprising thing of all, was that Andromeda Tonks was sitting next to her sister. Cousin Andy, as Bellariese affectionally called her, was wearing a deep blue dress, the edges speckled silver, a constellation of stars glimmering across the silk, that it took Bellariese a little while to realise that it was a highly accurate picture of the sky. Her eyes widened when she saw a star shooting across the hem, disappearing into the floor as the it died. Cissa wore white, an impressive feat, for the woman usually wore nothing but grey or black, but tonight, it seemed, she had taken a dip into her past life, and found something that even her sister would recognise her in. Her hair was long and loose, the white-blonde strands apparent to who her son was. Their husbands were missing, obviously not invited, and in a split second, Bellariese realised that Narcissa had taken Tonks words to heart.

The High Table was grand, far grander then the one used every day, and was speckled in white silver. The Judges and teachers sat there, conversing between themselves, and it was only as Bellariese sat next to her uncle, did the breath leave her lips. Ignatius turned, red hair slicked back, and smiled. He nodded at Randall, and rested his hand on Bellariese's arm.

'Are you well?' he asked, eyes narrowing. 'You look like you have swallowed a house elf,'

Bellariese snickered, pressing here and to her lops to dispel the sound.

'I am tired, that is all uncle,' she admitted, shrugging. 'Without my magic, I cannot stop the visions as much as I would like.'

Something Bellariese could only describe as concern crossed her uncle's face.

'Have you told anyone?' he asked. Bellariese shook her head.

'You know I cannot,' she pressed, licking her lips, as Randall reached across the table for his goblet, muttering something under his breath, conjuring a drink. 'Someone will die if I do,'

Ignatius squeezed his niece's hand tightly at that, pain lingering in his eyes, and for a split second the two mourned. Regulus, Celesta, Orion, even Walburga to a certain extent, were the innocence who had fallen to Bellariese's knowledge. Seers were dangerous, there was reason why they were all killed before the Statue of Secrecy, and while most thought it wise to obliterate them all, a few stood up for Seers rights; not that it was expected.

'Are they tormenting you?' Ignatius finally asked.

Bellariese kept her mouth shut, and before Ignatius could ask anything else, the doors opened and the champions walked in. Fleur Delacore led the procession, dressed in a beautiful silver robe, her heels clicking on the ground, she reminded Bellariese of a swan; stunning, but deadly. A Hogwarts student walked beside her side, and he wore a very confused expression on his face, as if he couldn't quite believe who he was dancing with.

Behind the Quarter-Veela was Viktor Krum, and to Bellariese's shock, Hermione. She wore a silky periwinkle blue robe, the floaty material flowing around her feet. A bright, warm smile rested on her lips, and her hair was bound in a fancy knot. Beside her, the Durmstrang Student looked somewhat shabby, for he wore a surprisingly modest maroon robe, the sleeves hand stitched with embroidered thread, reminding everyone around him of his Bulgarian heritage.

Cedric Diggory came next, brown robes matching brightly with Cho Chang's blue, that for a split second, Bellariese didn't even recognise the Hufflepuff. He glowed, suddenly looking like a happy, loved-up teenager, as if the dragon and the task had never happened and he was simply walking with his girlfriend.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, looked sulky, having certainly never wanted to be in the first place, and Bellariese felt a little sorry for his date, who looked like she wanted to strangle him, and by the way she was dragging him into the room, probably wanted to be with someone else.

Bellariese sat up as her niece came into the room, the purple dress she had picked out at Madam Malkin glittering, her dark hair pulled out of her face, to reveal a wicket smile, and her green eyes. A short breath left Bellariese's lips as the daughter of her brother, squeezed her date's arm, her smile widening even further when her date laughed. Bellariese shook her head. Apparently Amoret had taken her advice and asked a Durmstrang out.

Her smile turned to a knowing smirk however, once Arcturus entered. He wore a deep black robe, his namesake's star on his back. His blond hair was covering his face, fringe hiding his eyes, but even from her feet Bellariese know he was nervous. The teen beside him was a few years older, maybe a year or two, but Bellariese had seen Valerian around her home, to know well enough what the boy meant to her nephew. She laughed slightly as the muttering started, and she gave her nephew an encouraging nod, as he and Valerian Nicolescu walked forward, their hands latched together in a protective symbol.

And then finally Amaranth arrived.

Randall grabbed Bellariese's arm as the two stared, their lips parted in equal horror as the two woman entered the hall. Bellariese knew form various discussions that Amaranth was going to meet an old friend, but she didn't expect this friend. Turning she quickly looked in Karkaroff's direction, noticing the man's face, and how pale his skin was.

Amaranth's partner wore a tight black dress, her dark hair was curled out of her face, revealing her grey-blue eyes. Five ugly scars marred her skin, the faint trace of wrinkles decorating her supposedly deceased face. Karkaroff's grip on his wife's arm tightened as his gaze met the woman's and in the gathering gloom, Bellariese noted that Amaranth's partner looked down right deadly. But Bellariese didn't need to ask, didn't need to understand the connection between them, for even in the candlelight, Griselda Grimm's scar was a dark etch against her pale skin, the faded outline of a snake revealing her allegiance to all who saw her.

Bellariese breathed deeply, Randall's hand turning a deep white as she change her grip. Her arm burned, twisting under a deep magic, as the five champions, and their dates, stopped in front of the High Table. Dumbledore smiled brightly at the ten, his eyes twinkling even when he looked Griselda over. The Champions took their seats, and Randall found himself suddenly in a conversation with Griselda.

'So you're Rabastan and Rodulphus' baby brother,' the woman cawed, as she looked him over. 'I must admit, you do look like your mother.'

She cocked her head.

'I knew Annalise quite well before she died — lovely woman — when she wasn't throwing curses at your face.'

A faint german accent lingered being Griselda's words, and Randall nodded, trying desperately to ignore the woman. But Griselda was instant.

'Now that I look at you, you do look like your brothers in this light. Maybe it the eyes?'

Rising, Bellariese quickly hurried over to Amaranth, who was sitting next to Cedric, and before the witch could speak to the teenager, Bellariese had grabbed Amaranth's attention. She crouched down next to her sister-in-law, and after a sort glare, began to speak.

'What is she doing here?' she hissed, looking quickly at Griselda who was still questioning Randall. Amaranth raised an eyebrow.

'What are you doing with a Lestrange?' she asked, other eyebrow raising to meet its twin. 'A married one at that? Are you having an affair?'

'He's my friend,' Bellariese said, lips pursed. ' _My best friend_. I called in a favour. But that is no the point. What are you doing with a Death Eater?'

That last part was hissed, her voice shaking quietly as she looked at Amaranth. The witch shrugged.

'Truthfully, I wanted to see Snape's reaction.' she grinned, split tongue flicking. 'I thought he might have wanted to see his wife,'

'Ex-wife,' Griselda suddenly said, and Bellariese's heart dropped when she realised that the witch had been listening to every word. 'He thinks I'm dead,'

Bellariese turned, smiling a very sickly smile at the witch.

'Does he now?' she asked, trying not to panic. The witch hummed.

'You're Regulus' little sister, aren't you,' Griselda said, looking Bellariese over. 'The Seer,'

Bellariese's heart dropped, her eyes widening eversodlightly. How many people had her brother told?

'Yes,' Bellariese said, standing up and looking down at the witch, lips tight. 'Did Bellatrix tell you that?'

Griselda shrugged.

'No, but she did tell me she was your mother,'

Cedric looked up, eyes widening. Bellariese laughed, trying to brush the comment away.

'She raised me, yes,' Bellariese admitted. 'That doesn't mean so loved me,'

Griselda raised an eyebrow.

'She told me otherwise.'

Deciding that talking to the witch would only lead to trouble, Bellariese excused herself and sat back down. She glanced at the menu, and after calming her nerves called out his dish. Oysters suddenly appeared on her plate, steaming hot and delicious, and her mouth watered. Beside her Randall ordered a bowl of soup and the two began to eat, laughing and remaining amount the chatter, that she missed the photographer snatching a photograph of the two. Later, Bellariese would regret that, but sitting with Randall she almost forgot where she was. In her mind, she was a student, pulling Randall's hair, or playing Quidditch, her thought detaching themselves aways from reality, that it wasn't joyful yelling blasted its way down her eardrums that she returned.

It was a little strange to see Myron Wagtail, Kirley Duke and Donaghan Tremlett again, having shared school the famous three, for almost seven years, she hadn't quite believe her ears when she had first heard them sing on the wireless. Now five years later, the Weird Sisters were one of Tonks favourite bands and had been to nearly all their concerts — although that was due to the fact that one of her best friends was Kirley, (or as he was known in school, Kirley McCormack) and she did get free tickets nearly every weekend. Back then, when the Weird Sisters were simply a three man band who played on the weekends, they were funny and comical, a friendship group that managed to make a bridge the founders original purpose.

It took a while for the Weird Sisters to walk on stage, Myron, Kirley and Donaghan getting the biggest round of applause as they stepped forward, the three original bang members grinning from ear to ear as they stared at the school. The five newer recruits looked flustered and confused, having this been their first concert in Hogwarts since their graduation — the youngest being nineteen.

Kirley said something to Myron, who then nodded at Donaghan, and before anyone could move, the eight of them picked up their instalments, slipping them over their black ripped robes, and began to play a slow mournful tune. From her seat, Bellariese heard Tonks laugh, her hair flickering to an electric yellow, and on the stage, Kirley whooped, and waved.

Slowly students stood up, moving like snails to the middle of the dance floor, moving with the beat until the whole room was flooded with students. Feeling Randall's hand on her arm, Bellariese allowed her best friend to lead her onto the dance-floor, and after a thin look began to slow dance. She stepped on his toes, and he shook his head, and finally, as the bagpipes faded, (placed by a red-faced Gideon Crumb), a grin rose to Myron's lips.

The next song was faster, heavier in it's beat, and Bellariese found herself being spun, her hair unfurling from it's bun as her locks surrounded her like a curtain. She laughed, vision blurring as she grew dizzier. She heard Myron shout something, the music taking a rather gothic, punky tone and then Randall let her go. Bellariese barely realised it had happened until some else grabbed her hand, and she froze.

It was rather uncomfortable standing like a statue in the middle of moving bodies, and crazy teenagers, but in the loud music, and thumping feet, Bellariese looked up, her grey eyes staring into a deep blue. Whether Randall had planned this from the beginning she didn't know, but Bellariese had a funny feeling it must have taken the ex-Slytherin a great deal of persuasion to hand his best friend into a blood-traitor's arms.

Bill grinned, eyes twinkling, as he bowed low, ponytailed hair falling down his right shoulder as he looked up at her. He wore a deep black robe, a pale cream shirt and waistcoat underneath that, and in the candlelit hall, his hair was a fiery flame. A wicked smile rose to his lips as he looked at Bellariese taking her surprised expression. Finally be raised his hand, callused hand reaching out to her in a tempting want.

'May I have this dance?' he asked, quietly.

And then, without a word, Bellariese took his hand, and allowed herself to dance. She would dance until the wee-hours of the morning, when her feet hurt, and her arms ached. She would ignore the stares and looks that were sent their way by Pureblood children. She would ignore the burn in her arm when she kissed Bill softly, and in the morning when she finally went to bed, Bellariese would wonder why the hell she ever left him.

* * *

**Dear Readers:**

**First off I would like to apologise for taking so long, long story short, I was ill, then I felt incredibly depressed, and then author's block kicked in, and then for a while I gave up. I contemplated stopping fanfiction, of taking down my stories, and then I came back, still depressed but ever so slightly happier, and began to write. I fell back in love with my fanfics, and my original stories, and wrote.**

**I wrote new stories, new idea, and sort of forgot the old ones because I was afraid what to do. And then after I did this, I finally sat down, started up my laptop, and wrote these fanfictions again, and boy did I miss them. I missed falling asleep to these characters running around in my head, and began to long for your reactions and reviews again, and so this chapter was written.**

**I have no idea when the next one will be done, as I am starting university in a week. On a side note, I have started up a poll asking you guys to choose one of my stories for me to continue at Uni. They are all there, new ones and old ones, and I would greatly appreciated it if you read.**

**Once again, I am sorry, and now on with answering the reviews.**

**_paulaa90: Yes, I guess Bellatrix was a little out of character there, but I think people forget that this is a fanfiction. We as fans should be able to change characters just al little bit, and for this story, Bellatrix will have motherly side to her, whether she liked it or not. The Original will play a big part in this story, as will the Second Bellariese, once we get to see her. I am very supposed how early on you guessed the reincarnation part of the story, well done!_ **

**Anyway, I think its time we return to an old friend — Regulus Black will return in the next past section and by Hades I hope you're prepared for what you're about to read…**

**from,**

**Lily**

 


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